Never an absolution
by Kahlan Amnell
Summary: AU- In the final battle, Ultimecia gives Squall the chance to be reborn. She offers her powers to him as a child and hopes that this time around, he will grow up to be an ally instead of an enemy. However, if history changes for one, it changes for all...and at an unimaginable cost.
1. The End

**Disclaimer**: All Final Fantasy VIII characters and related trademarks belong to Square-Enix. Original storyline and characters belong to Kahlan Amnell.

**Note:** This story is set right after the final battle in VIII. Ultimecia decides to give her powers to the young Squall. Any events leading up to the day Ultimecia died at the orphanage have been kept in place. All changes come after this, even though I tried to keep much of the major events from the original game in place.

*** Some strong violence and swearing, as well as a few sexual references are to be expected throughout the story ***

* * *

**Never an Absolution**

By Kahlan Amnell

Prologue – The End

It had been a lovely day. The little things that pass for beauty in this part of the world chose this day to emerge all at once and for a few stationary moments, the world became less than its troubles. It became a painting, a memory in the minds of children who would remember the sunshine more clearly than any of the events that followed. The seagulls gave chase, rushing after their own across the grand endless theatre of the sky. The waves poured themselves onto the land, again and again, unwilling and unable to leave their place in this portrait.

In this eternal instant, the world was all flowers, all sunshine and all fragrance. But today on this lovely Sunday morning, that beauty was wasted upon the few who were around to witness it.

On the edge of the beach, standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the orphanage, a dying Sorceress unleashed a holy spell on a tall dark-haired man. It didn't work. Nothing did.

Time is what she needed. Time to speak, time to take in these last moments, just a second to search the world for absolution. But he kept coming and his fury kept choking the life out of her.

She didn't need the blood on her dress to tell her she was beyond aid, beyond salvation and beyond redemption. All she needed was a sword through the chest, to end the death that began centuries ago.

She staggered, as the man stretched out his hands and rained rocks the size of planets on her soul, shattering even the hard unbreakable vengeance in her heart.

_More time_

Not this time, she thought. She would not die upon his hands. In this impossible space, she had the power to choose the next cycle of life.

She smiled suddenly. She had felt the little boy before she even saw him. Even as the other children cowered with their caretakers in the distance, this boy was drawn to the chaos and blood. This lonely haunted boy, so uncared for that he thought nothing of wandering into the path of devastation.

With the last of her strength, she picked up the dark-haired boy and held him to her chest. Even as the terrified child struggled and fought and kicked her, she held him, like she would an anchor. Like she would her own child.

The torrent of fire and earthquakes stopped. Alone in the dust of their battle, was her and the two parts of him.

She looked at the man. All that wild emotion, all that horror and passion.

_Perhaps_, she thought and realised there was nothing in the world she wanted more than what she saw in his eyes.

"Don't do it Ultimecia, this is not the way it was supposed to go," the man said furiously. "Is that why you gave up the fight, to do _this_?"

But his rage and disbelief were nothing to her. This man, was nothing to her. The only part of him she wanted, was in her arms.

She kissed the terrified boy and wiped his tears.

"It was impossible for me to kill you," said the Sorceress. "Your death would merely have been a prelude to mine.

"I'm giving you something so precious, so priceless. I'm giving you a second chance Squall. A chance to do all that you have left undone, a chance to read the missing chapters. And you will see, that your destiny lies not with sorceress Heartilly or with that vile Garden that seeks to destroy my kind, but that your destiny lies with yourself.

Her enemy was frozen, and his tears pleaded with a part of Ultimecia that was too determined to live, to desperate to listen.

"Be comforted Squall Leonheart," she spoke quietly, "not everyone gets the chance to be reborn."

The sorceress pressed the little boy to her breast, stroking him as she prepared to deliver her powers to him, so that he may finish one day what she had started. With this thought in mind, she whispered in his ear:

_"Always remember that people are the sum of their many masks, be cautious of where you bestow your trust._

_One day you shall meet someone, and you will have to choose. When you do, I want you to remember those who have always stood by your side, because it is those people who matter in the end."_

The boy was now crying against her shoulder, as she whispered in his ear.

Suddenly the boy's pupils dilated and fear like poison held a grip over him when a surge of power went through his body from her hands. He could feel how a liquid fire coursed through his veins and a shattered scream ripped the air.

Farewell Squall, until next time.

A cloud of dust and time took her and the boy fell on his back.

Just before the little boy lost consciousness, he saw how the man with the familiar blue eyes grew transparent; his face dimming until he dissolved into the same cloud of nothingness that took his enemy.

There was a horror in those eyes that would be with him for the rest of his life.

Even as the boy convulsed and cried and looked into the cold terrified eyes of a man who was now less than nothing, the boy knew it.

_Knew it_

Nothing would ever be the same again.


	2. Unanimous Judgment

Chapter 1 – Unanimous Judgment

**_~ Damn the soldiers ~  
_**

Fred Berken wasn't the sort to liaise with government officials. The only figure in uniform he occasionally encountered was that young lass at _Diana's_, a clothing shop in Timber where he sometimes bought his wife Marge those pretty scarves she was so fond of. But ever since his arrival in Deling City, he had seen little else but uniformed people shouting orders at other uniformed people.

The city was a sea of blue and red and purple checked folks, swarming around the city, serving food, selling tickets, searching his clothes for hidden weapons. As he regarded the soldier positioned near the door of this 'waiting hall', Fred wondered what colour the man wore when he was off-duty.

But he remembered what that resistance guy told him in Timber, no Galbadian soldier was ever really off-duty. Fred was slowly starting to understand the nature of this city, where people had to wear labels with their name to know who they really were.

As he stood in the middle of this empty concrete room, with the rest of the farmers they managed to rally, he wondered what Marge was doing back home on the farm. Fred hoped she had managed to get enough mashed white beans to use for the porridge instead of milk. The kids wouldn't be too happy though, cooked white beans could make a grown man collapse in disgust.

But a starved man would be all too grateful.

Cerren Philips coughed nervously behind him. "Fred," he called quietly, "do you think they will listen to us?"

The other six men leaned in, all desiring some sort of assurance to relieve their anxiety.

Fred turned and smiled at them. "Of course they will," he said confidently, "they need us more than we need them. Who is going to work the land if we drop dead of hunger huh? There has been a misunderstanding, that's all. We just need to reason with them, make it clear to them that they can't go on like this."

Cerren nodded, as he regained a little of his confidence. "You're right Fred. Aren't I glad you're with us mate."

Their attention was quickly diverted when the door opened and four other soldiers entered the room. Unlike the one who was guarding them, these ones wore a red uniform, their faces concealed behind a mask of iron. Two positioned themselves on each side of the room, and obviously awaited someone else as the door was still open.

Doubt stirred in his mind as Fred observed the soldiers; they seemed awfully stern with their weapons firmly held close. He never knew that such things existed; even the soldiers who took to looting their farms didn't carry such bulky ominous arms.

Footsteps sounded down the hall, approaching steadily at an almost leisurely pace. The farmers' party in the waiting room shuffled nervously on their feet as an ambassador of the Galbadian government entered the room.

Sighs of relief and surprise erupted from behind him. It was merely a boy, barely out of his teens, clad entirely in black. His brown locks covered the forehead of his blank well-formed face. Eyes the color of blue metal surveyed the room. There was a frost in that gaze that chilled Fred's courage.

The young man was smartly dressed, wearing a black long-sleeved shirt. He had left the top three buttons undone and through the gap, Fred saw a chain of silver catch the light. The boy's hands were tucked deep into the pockets of his black leather pants, his many criss-crossing belts clinked as he moved, sounding like faint scratching.

Fred now used to the importance of color coding in this city, wondered what status black was associated with.

Cerren Philips and the rest smiled, as their confidence grew. But Fred was disturbed, the boy was calm, emotionless and this band of angry farmers didn't seem to leave a scratch on the surface of his troubles. Standing less than two feet away from this boy and his empty concrete soul, Fred's alarm grew, some tenuous unidentifiable warning sounded in his head. Fred noticed how the soldiers tensed when the boy entered the room, four battle-worn soldiers who were scared of one young man. Something told him that they had not much reason to be confident.

"State your business," the boy said.

Fred swallowed and prepared to deliver the arguments he had been practicing all week.

"Forgive us for coming here without any notice," he began, "we're farmers from Timber and we have come to talk to you about the things that have been taking place there."

"What things?" he asked.

"Terrible things," Fred replied, as the others mumbled sounds of resentment. "A group of soldiers, _Galbadian _soldiers have taken hold of our farms and claimed all our products for their own. Last week, a batch of soldiers came and seized our milk stores. I'm not claiming that the Galbadian government authorized these crimes or anything, but . . ."

"You are right," the boy interrupted him; "we did authorize their actions. Your stocks will serve as provisions for the Galbadian army. I believe you were given monetary compensation in return?"

"Yes, we have" Fred admitted, "but that's not nearly enough to provide for our families. We received one-tenth of what we normally would have received. We will starve if this goes on."

"It has come to our attention," the young man said sharply, "that you have conducted illegal trade with the southern provinces and Balamb Island. Under Galbadian law, this is tantamount to _treason_.

"Treason?" exclaimed Fred. "That is ridiculous; my family has lived here for dozens of generations. I love my country, don't you tell me about treason. It's the Galbadian government who's guilty of treason. I need to export my goods if your government continues to raise the taxes on this continent."

The expression on the boy's face remained indifferent. Fred grew angry suddenly, damn the frost, damn the soldiers, damn the ruthless machinations of wars he didn't ask for. Why was he pleading with a self-important punk when his kids were going hungry?

"Tell your government that we farmers won't stand for this anymore," Fred said furiously, "All the farmers of Timber have agreed to put sanctions on trade with the army, until they pay us what they stole from us. We declare ourselves independent of Galbadia and her Sorceress until this is done."

The boy shrugged. "Very well then."

Was there even a signal? Fred didn't see it. But these soldiers knew, like they must have done a thousand times, when to raise their arms at the farmers. Stifled cries of panic choked the group and Fred in his own panic didn't notice that his friends all looked to him for an escape. It was then that Fred noticed a long strange blade hanging from the boy's waist. As the young man turned to leave the room, the light caught the silver of the sword and a flash of an image flared in Fred's eye just before he left. It was an image of a lion engraved into the silver of a blade, a _gunblade_.

So that was what the sorcerer Leonheart looked like.

As the soldiers opened fire on the seven farmers, Fred's thoughts in a brief spark of sadness, drifted off to his little farm in Timber. A feeling of the most profound sorrow pierced through him, and the realisation that he was a failure shattered his heart more savagely than the bullets of the soldiers. As he lay shivering on the floor, twitching with every pint of blood that rushed out of him, Fred thought about his beautiful Marge tending to the flowers in her garden, he thought of his Barry and Clarissa wrinkling their noses in disgust as they ate mashed white beans with their porridge, instead of milk.

_I'm sorry_

They would never have milk again.

* * *

**_We__ need an Instructor's judgment _**

"The Galbadians have raised the alert in Timber. Reports have come in from our security base in Dollet that the northern regiment is moving, all heavy artillery within a 100 mile radius of Timber is held on stand-by. All farms in the area have been seized, in an effort to cut agricultural exports to the Balamb continent. Dollet is surrounded at a 50 mile distance. We may have secured Dollet City for a while, but the harbor is too valuable for the enemy to give up."

The Headmaster's assistant, a raven-haired young lady called Xu, ran her pen along the red circle around Dollet, which they now referred to as Zone 1. It was the only land on Galbadian soil that managed to stay clear of the hungry clutches of the Sorceress's rule.

"And has the Dukedom found a way to deactivate the tower?" a young blonde woman asked.

As a mere instructor, she was the only one of the five, whose presence could not be explained during a Combat Policy meeting. Yet curiously, she was here on the headmaster's invitation so no one dared to object and Quistis was grateful for this opportunity to fill in the blanks of her knowledge of the Dollet situation. Not twelve hours ago, her own students had embarked on a SeeD qualifying mission to Dollet. The true intent of that mission was only just beginning to dawn upon her.

"No, they haven't Quistis," Cid replied from the head of the conference table. "Even our technicians believe that the security codes cannot be bypassed."

Quistis nodded. "All this time we believed they wanted to win the harbor, while they were after some rundown radio tower no one has used in seventeen years. I'm not really sure on what front we're trying fight Galbadia anymore."

Xu's head snapped up suddenly. "Which reminds me, what was that mission you wanted to see us about Headmaster?"

The Headmaster of Balamb Garden, an amicable but authoritative man, stood up to face the three people gathered for this briefing, his hands tightly clenched around a black unmarked file.

"Though this might breach our neutrality," he began, "we have for good or ill, entered into a war with Galbadia. While this country has always been a cause to look over our shoulders, we have never dealt with Galbadia in this capacity before. Ever since the sorceress entered into the picture a few years ago, old assumptions have become obsolete. We know next to nothing about the sorceress and her intentions, though I'm sure we all here can imagine the consequences should she retain her influential position."

"We don't need much imagination, some of the consequences are already occurring," muttered a tall mouse-haired woman with rather small eyes, which always gave her the appearance of someone who has just come out of bed. Jaina Frost was the head of Communications, who contrary to what her position might suggest, never much interacted with her peers.

The Head of Combat Policies and Strategies, a young man with red hair, spoke up. "So, we're talking about intelligence gathering here?"

"Yes Zander," replied Cid, "I propose to send a small squad to investigate matters in Timber; we need to know what prompted the activation of the tower. We also need to know the cause for this sudden shift in Galbadia's behavior and the sudden increase of activity in the past few months."

"I can dispatch some level 50 SeeDs by tomorrow morning, say, eight SeeDs?" Zander suggested.

"No Mr. Marks," Cid shook his head. "No, we will only need a squad of three and I have already appointed the SeeDs to execute this mission."

Instructor Quistis squinted. "And which three SeeDs are to do this?" she asked, already knowing by Cid's shifting that she wouldn't like the answer. She had trained many cadets herself and she didn't know anyone who could perform such a task.

He didn't reply but instead shoved a file he had been holding across the glossy marble table. The file only contained the pictures and the basic status reports of three SeeDs.

Zander gasped just as Xu dropped her pen when they recognized the faces. Even the usually composed Jaina Frost uttered a loud "WHAT"?

Quistis merely stared at the pictures, wondering if it would be above her station to suggest that the Headmaster visit Dr. Kadowaki for a check-up. But she couldn't say that she was entirely surprised, at least not about one of the SeeDs chosen for this mission.

"That's preposterous," Zander said, "with that many troops stationed in Timber, with tensions rising through the roof, and then to dispatch _three _inexperienced cadets, SeeDs I might add who are not even _initiated_ yet, to a hostile country, forgive me sir, is foolishness, barely short of assisted suicide."

"Zander is right," Quistis said, annoyed that it was even necessary to point this out. "These cadets have never been on a mission. Their investigative skills are bred in a classroom and have not had the time to be nurtured by experience. To assign them on so important a mission, is just madness."

"Indeed," Cid said, holding his hands up to halt their torrent of disbelief, "but a soldier can only learn the art of war when he's called to arms. Didn't you hear Xu's briefing, the security in Timber is pitched at top level, and they are expecting interference, especially from us. They are expecting weathered SeeDs, mercenaries who know all the tricks in the book. The ideal undercover SeeD will pretend he doesn't know anything. The only thing more ideal than that, is a SeeD who really _doesn't _know anything."

Zander grunted. "We have very capable SeeDs, mercenaries who would take a bullet before betraying the code to the ladies toilets. Are you saying that those very SeeDs, who have survived many missions against all odds, are not even capable of doing something an inexperienced SeeD would be able to accomplish?"

Cid gave Zander a sympathetic smile. "What I am saying is that I do not doubt that those fine SeeDs would never betray a word to the enemy. But I'm not concerned with what they can get from us, but with what we can get out of _them_. Right now, we need those who will raise the least amount of suspicion."

"Cid, if something happens, should they fail," Quistis paused for a moment, "we won't be able to step in. With their chances so slim, we would be sending them towards a ready death."

The headmaster loosened his tie. "The tides are turning Quistis, you know that. Galbadia is up to something. I fear that the reactivation of the communications tower in Dollet is just a prelude to something infinitely more sinister. Every day we spend in indecision, the sorceress spends in progress. With her powers extending well beyond the borders of the capital, I say if we don't manage to stop her now, I don't think we ever will.

You see, whatever methods and concepts and contingency schemes we had in the past no longer matter. A new plan will weather the currents of change better than old beliefs. The enemy won't hesitate to change tactics if it might suit their purpose, neither must we.

"Good grief Cid, but three inexperienced SeeDs?" Jaina said in exasperation. 'They won't last. If we send them out, it means we can already mark their graves and wait for the bodies to return."

The headmaster brushed a clammy hand over his already moist forehead, as he sighed. "Yes it's a dangerous mission with unfavorable odds. But someone needs to do it."

"And what if they die?" asked Quistis, her eyes ready to catch the slightest change in this headmaster's expression. She was waiting, looking for anything that would tell her his true intentions.

He sighed. "That would be a tragedy, but not one we can't use. Their sacrifice might be central t our next step should the mission fail.

Three pairs of eyes laced with incredulity gazed back at him. But Cid wasn't too shaken by their lack of confidence. Soon they would understand the reasons behind his actions. Bitter realities, like the ones he had been protecting _everyone_ from, had a way of revealing themselves with stunning clarity.

"I would like to send these SeeDs along with the good faith of us all," Cid said, "I ask you all to trust me in this. It won't be completely hopeless, there's a chance they will make it back and when they do, we will be stronger than we are now. Will you not trust me in this?"

Xu and Zander shifted uncomfortably in their seats, muttering that it was crazy. Quistis said nothing.

Cid stood up from his seat and paced the oval shaped conference room for a minute. The majesty of the large Balamb Garden Conference Room seemed daunting and gave the impression that as small as they were, they were not to expect any guidance or courage as they reflected on the significance of what they were about to commit these three unknowing SeeDs to.

"If this is what the situation calls for," Zander said, "I vote yes."

Xu nodded. "I do too."

Jaina gazed intently at the headmaster with her commanding dull brown eyes. "I don't like this Cid. But there is a chance that they will succeed, and I vote yes on that tiny margin of hope."

To everyone's surprise, Cid asked: "How do you vote Quistis?"

Quistis snapped her eyes up at Cid. "I'm not a board member, I'm just an instructor. I can't vote on policies and strategies."

"We will have to make an exception this time," said Cid, "we need an instructor's judgment on this matter."

"I don't know Cid," Quistis said doubtfully, "they are real people to me, not just pawns. You all have the privilege of distancing yourselves from those you send to their deaths, that's why it wouldn't be fair to have me decide."

Cid smiled as he approached her and laid his hand gently on her shoulders.

"But that's why you're here Quistis," Cid explained. "Two of these SeeDs used to be your students. You know them better than we do Quistis."

Panic as well as a small stock of pride surged through her. So that's why he had invited her to a board meeting, because she was the only one who truly knew whether they'd be able to pull through. Two SeeDs, one remarkable and one slightly less so. And she was the only one who could be sure of their ability.

_Their sacrifice might be central should the mission fail_

Of course, it was as good a pretext for war as anything.

Quistis picked up one of the status reports and glanced at the distant expression on the SeeD's face.

Cid's _favorite_ student, the one he had such high hopes for. Quistis didn't know much about this one, since Cid never explained his motives. But something about this SeeD had brought out the passion in Cid. Since their arrival in Balamb Garden, everything revolved around his prized new pet.

If only to see how valid those hopes were, she would send them in.

And she trusted on Jaina's hope that they would make it.

"I say we shouldn't divide the responsibility of the board, it will have to be unanimous, so I vote yes," Quistis said finally.

Cid smiled as though he hadn't expected any other reply. "I thank you for your trust."

Jaina gave a derisive snort that seemed to pass Cid by.

"But headmaster, will they go completely unsupervised?" asked Xu, "Can't we send at least one experienced SeeD to assist them in times of need?"

Cid smiled, "Ah yes, of course there will. But I rather wait until I inform this SeeD before I announce them. So if there are no more questions, I will need to see to a few things, not least of all the initiation of the SeeDs. Enjoy yourselves at the graduation ball tonight."

Everyone nodded and collected their papers to leave.

"Oh Quistis, a word if you please," Cid called after her as she was about to walk out of the conference room.

"Yes Headmaster?" she said. Her blue eyes appraised him expectantly, trying to figure out what it was that he was going to say before he did. Cid noticed that quality she always had, that need to be prepared, to never allow yourself to be caught unawares.

"Quistis Trepe," Cid began, "you are to accompany the squad on their mission to Timber."

She cocked her head as she raised an eyebrow. "But I'm an instructor," Quistis said quietly, "I don't do field work."

"I hereby relieve you of your office," he stated, "You are now a level 15 SeeD and are under obligation to assist in this mission."

Whatever pride she experienced when the headmaster had invited her so unexpectedly to the meeting, ebbed away and left her self-esteem parched.

Oh, this was too clever! Not only had she dug her own grave when she agreed to send those SeeDs out, she had done it eagerly, impatient for the moment to bury herself in the dirt of irony. It reminded her of that silly fairy tale where the evil stepmother is asked to devise a punishment for her stepdaughter and is then eventually made to endure it herself.

When he paid her a personal visit into her office this morning, she had expected to go sleep that night with the thought that her life would be different in the morning. Well the only thing that would be different now was that she'd just booked an earlier ticket to her grave.

"I understand Headmaster," she said and her smile was glorious, as if nothing else could have made her this happy. "I'll expect my briefing report tomorrow, shall I?"

Cid nodded. "I'll come by early tomorrow to go over a few things."

"Of course Headmaster," she said, still smiling. "Well then, I'd better go and finish up on a few things. Clear my office, the usual and perhaps stock up on a few supplies. Goodness, so much yet to do, so I better run off. Goodbye Headmaster."

He held her back just as she was about to turn. "Beware of the Sorceress's knight Quistis."

Quistis blinked. "Her apprentice?"

Cid's voice lowered to just beyond a whisper. "He is dangerous, more than you could possibly imagine. Keep out of his way, no matter what."

"I heard that he's nothing more than an exotic breed of lapdog," she said, genuinely disturbed by Cid's behavior, "a brainless puppet led by her strings."

Cid surveyed Quistis through his glasses. "You would be making a grave mistake if you believe that. This man knows no mercy; it would be useless to argue with him, because the very concept is beyond his grasp. A man so ruthless reserves no hesitation in battle, no act is too brutal. Quistis, there is no limit to what this man will do to achieve his goal, no limit whatsoever.

"Very well," she said cheerfully. "Point taken, I shall remain well clear of him."

Cid smiled amicably. "I'm sorry it had to be like this Quistis. Good luck and enjoy the ball tonight."

_Sure I will_.

She nodded and turned quickly, just as she lost the strength to keep her smile from breaking.


	3. Initiation

Chapter 3 - Initiation

**_You do this for Edea only?_**

The sorceress Ultimecia stood in the doorway of the unlit Presidential lounge, contemplating whether to enter the room or flee from it. She cut out a majestic silhouette against the light that flooded in from the hallway. Urgent matters bid her to announce herself quickly, but a lingering desire commanded her to watch in secret that which he would not allow her to see freely. He was reading an ancient leather-bound book. He was always reading when he wasn't on a mission, always searching for that damned creature.

It was a part of him she had never understood, a part he never allowed her to understand.

Squall didn't know she was here, watching him in the darkness. He wouldn't have remained in the lounge if he did, there was no bearing her presence apparently. She repulsed him, forced him to flee from what once bound him to her.

Unaware of the silent intruder, he made his way through the pages of an ancient leather-bound book. Books and scrolls and reports surrounded him in a mess of arcane knowledge. His metallic blue eyes scanned the pages detailing the legend of a force that was beyond defeat.

_Griever_

Picture renderings of a lion-like beast were scattered everywhere. A small candle saved him from the darkness that was always ready to swallow him whole, as he poured over a priceless document.

"I have told you before Squall," a voice sounded from those parts of the room the light did not touch, "you waste your time chasing myths while reality is catching up with you."

"What do you want?" he asked without looking up from his reading.

Ultimecia rose soundlessly out of the shadows, seeming to materialize out of air. But her clever trick was wasted upon her one-man audience.

"I want to know if you are ready," she said in an empty voice, drained of human emotion.

Her voice was accent-less, emotionless, perfect in its intonations. Pleasant sounding vocal chords that rung out of habit than any real need. If she wanted to, she could launch her thoughts into his mind.

When he was younger, words were rarely necessary. She treasured those moments when he allowed her into his mind. But these days, she dared not attempt it. The last time she had touched his thoughts, the boy had not spoken to her for six months.

Squall Leonheart finally gave up and met her gaze. As always she struck him as strangely beautiful, in ways Edea could never be, even if the face was the same. He never told her this of course and there was no reason why he would.

Why tell her he was probably the only one who found her anything other than horrific. She repulsed most people. Something about her face made people sick with fear. Her expressions were numb, haunted. She carried her face like a corpse, flawlessly beautiful of course, but those feline sculpted features hers seemed to shelter something invisible, something old and long rotten.

"I'm ready, wait for me in the car Ultimecia," he replied impatiently as he once more immersed himself in the ancient text.

Ultimecia said nothing as she turned and left the room as silently as she had entered.

When he was sure that she was gone, Squall snapped the book shut. His concentration was ruined.

The lights of Deling City glittered outside his window like scattered gold, illuminating the city of twilight, the one place on earth it was never truly dark and never quite light. Methodically he began to collect the delicate papers and parchments spread across his desk, and returned them to his small old fireproof safe. As he entered the security codes he thought about a woman who had brought him to this city.

A woman called Edea.

The memory ignited a sudden gold flash in his blue eyes. He tried to remember Edea, as she used to be, as the woman who had raised him. Tonight he was going to enter the last chapter in a story that started more than a decade ago. Squall wondered if _Edea_ could see him whenever that witch, Ultimecia looked at him. What would she think behind the alien soul that festered within her body?

_It's your husband I'm going to kill_, he thought, _the one you hated so much_. _What would you say to that?_

But the truth was, Squall Leonheart didn't really want to know the thoughts of a woman he had so readily given up. When Ultimecia appeared a five years ago, Squall had barely complained, had not threatened to destroy her if she didn't return to him the one person who had ever loved him. The death of Edea was quickly forgiven; she was easily accepted as no more than a memory.

The hideous, most traitorous truth was that he found himself better suited to Ultimecia, a woman who held convictions strong enough for the both of them. Squall never admitted it, not even in the safe confines of his mind, that as a child he felt burdened by Edea's guilt.

Each day with Edea was a demonstration of how much she had given up for him and it was harrowing to know that her kindness amounted to a debt he could never repay. For years Squall had looked into her eyes and had seen regret, a smoldering desire for the past. If only she hadn't come back to the orphanage that day, she would never had cause to save him, to leave her husband, her life and go into hiding with a child that wasn't hers.

Squall was feeling uncharacteristically hesitant to perform tonight's mission. Ultimecia could pretend otherwise, but the man he was after was more than an enemy. He was the past, exploding into an uncertain present. Good luck capturing that tonight.

Still his hand rested the small iron safe, heavy and unwilling to release the few scattered clues to a long forgotten weapon, a weapon to be used in a long forgotten war.

Whenever the world around him grew more complicated than he knew to solve, it was always this safe he returned to and this private quest of his. Strange fairy tales about a mystical beast were a lot easier to understand than many of the things that had happened in his life.

Ultimecia was waiting for him. Soldiers and helicopters were set to fly at his command, but still the young Lord Sorcerer found himself unable to break this spell of uncertainty. His thoughts drifted across time and back. Walking the time-line that ended with the present and as always wondering the same thing.

_Why am I here?_

For Ultimecia this question was easy. Her world revolved around dogmas and creeds, axioms dearly held against any price. She had brought him up with views, with clear-cut rights and wrongs. He was her knight and she his Sorceress.

_All that we do is survive those who don't want us to_, she used to tell him.

Edea used to say something similar, when they were still on the run from Estharian soldiers.

Squall had become quite adept at surviving at the cost of others. Years of unrelenting training under Ultimecia's guidance made sure that when it came to a battle, it wouldn't be his body the carrions would feast upon. Those few who knew of the Sorceress's knight feared him, some even more than they did her. The sorceress still possessed some inhibitions, even if it was when things conflicted with her interests.

Squall Leonheart had none.

He heard the sound of Ultimecia's shoes clicking across the cemented courtyard. Squall sheathed his gunblade, the mystical weapon of the stories he had grown up on. When he was younger, the stories were about fair princes who boldly served Hyne with unsurpassed courage, who never failed the damsel in distress. As he got older, the bold princes turned out to be tyrant kings, who committed genocide left and right. In the stories Ultimecia used to tell him at night, it was they who caused the distress. It was _they _who burnt the damsel on a flaming pyre.

As he closed the door behind, it came to him that after tonight nothing would be the same. Years of planning, scheming and preparations would suddenly be actions. Hypotheses would become facts. The endless possibilities would vanish and the rest of the story would be one consequence after another.

At long last he left the presidential lounge and followed Ultimecia out to the courtyard.

"Why won't you let one of our men handle this Squall?" Ultimecia asked him, when he sat beside her in the black presidential car. She would accompany him to the outskirts of Deling City region where Squall would continue on his on own to Balamb Garden with a helicopter.

Squall sighed, a little irritated. They had discussed this endlessly; Ultimecia was not very keen on releasing her most prized companion into the heart of her enemy. Squall didn't really care that much, to him they were but another obstacle, another point on the agenda.

"Why would you take up such a petty job when we have people for this?" Edea asked.

"Because he's your husband."

"No, not _my_ husband," she said softly.

He swallowed. She never allowed him to forget. Even though she called herself Edea in public, she never allowed him to pretend that she was the woman he used to know.

A few years ago, Edea had disappeared. Instead another woman had appeared, so very like Edea and yet so completely lacking in the humanity which he had seen in Edea's eyes. Her familiar face would forever remain expressionless. The very sight of her inhuman beauty disgusted him, and yet Squall knew that he would not leave her side.

"I know," he said quietly, "He is Edea's husband."

He owed Edea that much at least, to give the man she loved that much respect by facing him in person. Edea had also hated Cid, hated him so much, it frightened him sometimes as a child when he still felt anything as significant as fear. It was horrifying to realize that so much hate could only result from just as much love.

This man was more than the common terrorists they apprehended each day.

The yellow in Ultimecia's eyes intensified, a sign that she was tapping into her power. "Yes, it does make things a bit complicated."

He nodded absently but remained silent. When the car came to a halt near the private airport Edea placed her hand gently on his forearm as he was about to get off.

"You do this for Edea only?" she asked. "Or are you on a quest of your own?"

"I have no quests Ultimecia," he said wearily, "none but the one we already have started. Now if you don't m-,"

"Then why would you go?" she interrupted. "We could have him killed, while we continue our other plans from the safe confines of the Presidential residence."

He sighed, exhausted by a discussion that had raged for weeks. "You told me yourself Ultimecia, I'm a sorcerer, I'm never safe."

She smiled sadly, knowing that to him her smile would seem indifferent, human expression was the price she had to give up for leaving her own body.

"Know this before you go," she said as she released him from her grip, "when all else is gone, it is _me _who will be waiting for you. Goodbye Squall."

_Something tells me it won't be you who will return from Garden tonight_.

As he looked into her golden eyes that among many things belied her status as a sorceress, he knew why he would never stand down from her side. To leave her, was to be truly and utterly alone. For no one in this world knew what it felt like to be on the dark side of society. To wield a power that could render you helplessly alone in your golden cage.

Without speaking another word he stepped out of the limousine.

* * *

**~ Garden's pride and finest ~**

Headmaster Cid Kramer stepped to the four freshly recruited SeeDs who had survived the day's exhausting SeeD exam. Today he was to give another spirited speech like he had done so many times.

He would speak of honour, loyalty and courage. He would smile upon their bright and cocky faces, while secretly wondering if the pride would still be there as they lay lifeless on the battlefield. And afterwards he would wearily prepare himself for another batch of SeeD candidates.

Yet there was this little nagging feeling, so close to the surface of his confidence, that these SeeDs could be the very last of Garden.

He walked up to a blonde boy who was desperately trying to wipe the ear-to-ear grin off his face. He was tall and muscled and an obtrusive tattoo snaked across the side of his face. Many in Garden would have found that intimidating, if his baby-blue eyes didn't belie his odd peristent charm.

"Zell," Cid said approvingly. "Well done, but try to keep your energy in control.

"Yess sir," Zell said as he made a show of saluting the headmaster.

Cid walked up to the next student, a petite young girl with bright eyes and short bouncing chestnut hair. She had an air of optimism that many in Garden had found unsettling when she arrived. Though she may be out of place, Cid believed that a healthy dose of optimism wouldn't go wrong when there was despair all around.

"Once again, welcome to Balamb Garden, Selphie," he said to her, "I do not doubt that you will fit quite nicely in SeeD."

His pleasant comment was returned with a flashing smile.

And finally, the last SeeD that would be ceremoniously recruited in Garden. Cid tensed as he approached the last student. This SeeD would prove to be the most indispensable for the future of their world.

"Rinoa Heartilly," Cid said with a nod, "welcome to SeeD."

The dark-haired girl nodded, but did not smile as the other SeeDs. "Thank you."

He studied her dark eyes and the raven hair that framed her pale face and fell just over her shoulder to merge with the darkness of her SeeD uniform. As she stood here next to Zell and Selphie, he noticed the stark contrast of her and the two other SeeDs. Whereas they radiated light and energy, she spread a unmistakenable sort of indifference. As if she had just passed a simple driving exam.

Maybe it was she who was out of place.

In his mind, Cid located the familiar guilt, right where it always emerged in the darkest of his memories. He found it and crushed it with the weight of his logic and hope. Part of him thought the world of Rinoa and part of him was glad he didn't have to look at her face for much longer and see those of countless dead people staring back at him.

She was the only uncertainty in his carefully designed prospects. But she was also the only trump he held back, the one which provided the foundation for his hopes, like floating rocks trying to balance on the surface of water.

She had been in Garden for almost a year now and already about to become a SeeD. Nobody knew why Cid had made an exception by allowing Rinoa to enter Garden so late, and with every secret came the price of suspicion. Cid pretended not to hear the whispers of the Garden Board whenever he championed Rinoa Heartilly as his best student, he pretended not to see their prying eyes, he pretended not to feel guilt whenever he told them another lie.

Guilt for destroying so many lives. But many more lives would be destroyed if guilt blocked him from clear focus. Sacrifices had to be made.

_And how._

Long ago, he had lost his wife. By some fatal mistake on the part of destiny, where Edea should have stood beside him now, Rinoa was.

And yet, she was Cid's only hope. Where he had lost so much, she would make up. And maybe, if fate willed it so, in the end she would be worth the loss.

In the wasteland that was his memory, he heard a call from the past. _She will never be one of us._

Cid bent a little closer to her, because what he had to say was for her ears only.

"Rinoa, whatever happens, whomever you meet, be cautious always. There are some things within yourself that will reveal themselves in due time, when they do, remember then that everything and everyone matters."

Rinoa frowned. "I don't underst-,"

Cid interrupted her with a smile. "Don't worry, you will in time."

He then turned to the entire group of SeeDs.

"SeeDs, I welcome you as Garden's pride and finest. From this moment forth, you are to act, think, speak and feel like a SeeD, to have no greater purpose than that in which we are all joined, loyalty and courage. So, spend your first night in celebration and be prepared at the first light of dawn for your first official mission.

You are dismissed."


	4. Rinoa's Prize

Chapter 4 – Rinoa's Prize

**~ _Just tell me how I can pay you back_ ~**

Rinoa Heartilly closed the door behind her and sat down on the only chair in her dorm-room. She ran her hand through her raven locks as she reflected on the events of the day. The SeeD test had been exhausting, and being a squad leader wasn't somehow as glamorous like the stories made it out to be. Even now, she wondered why Cid had chosen her for this job, _her_, a Garden student of only one year. Many were the times she questioned Cid's bizarre motives, the man who had insisted that she'd join Garden a year ago. Back then, she had nowhere to go, Garden had seemed like her best option.

Before Garden, she had led an uninteresting but pleasant life in Timber, working at the Timber Juvenile Home center where she grew up at, after her real parents had died in an explosion in Deling City when she was five.

Look at her now. She was finally a SeeD with her own private room, a luxury by the standards of Garden, where everyone was cluttered up together in small dorms. It was great.

Great not to hear the careless, deliberate whispers at night in the dorm room. Hyne help her if she so much as _goodmorning'ed_ a fellow cadet. It always went one of two ways. If it wasn't the frost, that hard undeniable contempt that showed itself with every turned-away face or in the vacuum of every unanswered request, if it wasn't the active snubbing, it was the questions. A thousand ruthless questions tearing at her past.

_Wonder what she had to do to get in? Why is she always in his office?_

_He sure likes 'em young _

_She sure likes 'em evil_

Cid always told her to ignore everyone, that after all she'd been through, she ought to have learned how to rise above the pettiness.

So rise above she did. For the whole year she was in Garden, she never once spoke to another soul outside of training missions. And for every one of those days, she wondered why she was here.

_"Seifer, what honour is there in killing?"_

A year ago she had entered Garden only by chance, wanting to find a boy named Seifer. To tell him that she wanted their summer to continue, that she was prepared to share his dream, because her own had been crushed in the palm of an explosion.

_"And where do you think your fancy little dreams will take you? Nowhere, you'll end up staying in this godforsaken town forever, wishing you had followed me to Garden."_

In the end she had followed him, but she never found him in Garden.

Seifer had died during a mission. He had died a traitor's death.

"I'm sorry Rinoa," Cid had said. "I know you traveled far."

The news had devastated her. She had cried out his name as she fell to the floor, the finality of his words sinking into her like an irresistable virus. Dozens of SeeDs and cadets watched her on the floor, as their Headmaster tried to console her. Watched this stranger cry for _Seifer_. The guy who betrayed his own home.

When Cid took her in and told her she had a place to stay, Rinoa felt a little comforted. On her first day she had asked her classmates about Seifer, hoping to add a little subtance to her brief memories of him. This was his home, the place that made him who he was.

That was when she first encountered the frost. The first few times people ignored her, it had been bewildering. No one answered her. Conversations were abruptly aborted whenever she entered the room.

Until one day in her first week she had asked a usually bright popular boy called Zell about Seifer. He had been nice to her in training, had even showed her the codes to different areas and didn't seem to join in with the whispered taunts.

"Hey Zell, _would you_ mind telling me about Seifer. No one seems to want to talk."

His grin had frozen and for a moment she thought he would actually answer her, but then that sweet sweet boy who had shown her where to get the best hot dogs, the boy who was her only ally in the entire academy, looked at her like she was a monster.

"You just can't give it up, can you?" he said and marched out of the room, angrily shaking his head.

Zell didn't speak to her for the rest of the year.

The class room was empty and Rinoa was so lost in Zell's words, that she hadn't heard one of her Instructors walk in.

"They all saw it, you know," a young woman said.

It was Quistis Trepe, the only teacher who had never bothered to speak to her.

"Saw what?"

"Saw you crying his name," she said. Her voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "Saw you grieving him like he hadn't just killed a fellow cadet. Like he hadn't tried to kill _me_. And here you were, lying all lost and shattered on the floor, _mourning_ in front of the same people who are not yet done mourning themselves."

"I didn't know."

It was the truth. Cid had given her a copy of the mission report, but she never read it. Rinoa didn't need to hear the circumstances of his death, not while the memories of his life were still so vivid.

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone here," she said. "But I can't just forget. . . I. . ."

"You loved him," Quistis finished for her.

Rinoa sighed, considering denial, but then she nodded.

Her Instructor stared at her a moment. There were too many things in that woman's gaze for Rinoa to guess at, but enough of it looked so haunted, it could only be sorrow.

Then she shook her head at the ridiculousness of it all.

"You're a silly girl," said Instructor Trepe and walked away.

That was the last time Rinoa mentioned Seifer again. She kept quiet, allowed the whispers to wash over her and didn't react whenever another cadet suggested she had probably been fucking Sorceress Adel and Edea before they turned evil too.

Rinoa had told the headmaster that Seifer was alive when she last saw him, though a little wounded. Cid told her that he often embarked on minor missions to the Timber region. Some months after he left her in Timber, Seifer must have undertaken that fatal SeeD exam and died in the attempt to sabotage his qualifying mission.

A year ago, a week after Seifer had left her to return to Garden, her home in Timber had been bombed. It was the only house on her street targeted by the Galbadians in reprisal for allegedly conspiring against the Galbadian government. Rinoa had never been one to get involved in matters of politics, she left that to Timber's many resistance organizations.

But Hyne forbid that Galbadians concern themselves with such petty things as evidence and justice.

All that was _after_ Seifer. After the summer that changed her life.

Before Seifer, however . . . man, was life ever _boring_.

* * *

One blissful summer ago, she had met a boy that would change her life. She had been sixteen, and one day as Rinoa carelessly wandered about Timber's main, something stopped her in her tracks. In the distance she saw a group of group people standing in the dark. There were lights and armoured vehicles and screams in the night.

As she approached them she saw that a small group of people moving in front of the mayor's house, carrying out all valuables. Another group was looting the nearby Pub for alcohol. The mayor's wife and their young son were the only ones present.

"Please leave us," the woman pleaded with a soldier.

"Get your punk ass up," Rinoa heard someone yell. "Let's see how much of a hero you are now." It was a Galbadian soldier beating someone who was lying on the floor. Ever since the Galbadian pigs hauled their battle circus into Timber, it had been non-stop fun and torture in their once sleepy town.

"Finish him off," another soldier said, "that'll teach 'em SeeDs to mess with Galbadia."

She quickly picked up that the man was a prisoner who was being escorted to Timber's prison. While passing the square, the prisoner witnessed a raid on the Mayor's home. Somehow the young man had managed to fend off his own captors to fight off the soldiers beating the old Mayor. But his valiant effort was all in vain, as the man was soon overpowered and the Mayor lost his life in the struggle.

The soldier obeyed the command all too gratefully and grabbed the man by his collar and positioned him against the wall. He was weak; his feet struggled to hold his weight upright. Somewhere under the bruises and grime and blood, Rinoa noticed his eyes. Despite his humiliation and knowledge of certain death, his green eyes merely expressed…..annoyance.

She realized he was only a boy, about her own age, about to die for defending a family he didn't even know. He was going to die for doing what was right.

And that's when she asked herself _that_ question.

_What have I done with my life lately?_

She scratched her dog's neck. "We have to do something Angelo."

He barked in approval.

Rinoa never understood what came over her then, but something made her walk up to the soldier who had his machine gun ready to blow the boy to pieces.

"Hey you," she said, trying to keep her voice clear and assertive. She kept her hands behind her back, so they wouldn't see them trembling. "I challenge you to a duel."

The young soldier looked away from his trapped prey and sized her up suspiciously. He was of average height, but muscular and clearly unused to challenges.

"The hell?"

"I think this little girl wants to play duel with you Wedge," teased another soldier.

"Beat it, aint got the time for this," he growled at her. But Rinoa wasn't all too impressed.

"Oh my, you're not afraid of losing to a common civilian, are you, a girl even?" she taunted him. His friends laughed as they waited for his reaction.

Wedge took the bait and turned away from the boy pinned to the wall. "What's in it for me?"

Rinoa smiled sweetly at him. "You can do whatever you want with me."

The other soldiers laughed even harder.

"And if you win?" he asked, skeptical but with mounting interest.

Rinoa smiled and looked around at the half loaded valuable artifacts. "I want to take all that I can carry."

The soldier grinned.

"Bring it on. Just don't think I'll give you a break just because you're a kid."

Rinoa replied with a thrust of her Valkeyrie in his stomach. Immediately he clutched his midsection and growled in anger. Realizing that this would become more than a game, the soldier returned her attack with a shower of raging bullets, which hit her in her shoulder blade. Gasping in pain she raised her Valkeyrie to block another attack.

"Angelo," she yelled. Upon hearing his name being summoned her large faithful fur ball of a dog came running towards the soldier and delighted himself in taking a bite in his crotch. She completed the attack with another shot from her projectile. The soldier finally collapsed onto the ground, severely bleeding; the worst cause of pain being located somewhere between his legs.

"Okay missy, take whatever you can carry here. It's all yours," the leader said, wiping tears of laughter from his cheeks.

Rinoa nodded at them and walked past the laughing soldiers, past the precious valuable artifacts and the silverware, and stood finally still in front of the blonde boy. He was still leaning against the wall for support. Even though he was on the verge of losing consciousness, she knew he hadn't missed a second of what happened.

Without another word she pulled the wounded boy up and threw him over her shoulder. He winced in pain as she accidentally touched his wounds. Her legs shook under his weight but somehow she managed to hold her balance. She thought she'd heard him mumble something about being capable of walking.

"Hey that's a prisoner of war," the fallen soldier protested.

"Forget it Wedge, all that she can carry, that was the bargain," said the commander and to Rinoa: "He's all yours."

The hilarity among the soldiers was now complete. They were now literally crying with laughter, throwing one mocking insult after another at Wedge, clutching their stomachs and vowing to carry the story to every last soldier in the Galbadian army.

Wedge stood up to go after Rinoa and make her pay for this insult, but his friends held him back, forcing him to bear the brunt of his agreement. Growling he released himself from the grasp of his friends, almost collapsing under the burden of humiliation.

"You fucking bitch," he shouted, "one day, your ass will be mine."

Rinoa never suspected that in a month's time, he would get what he wished for.

That night she had brought her prize to Timber's only medical clinic near the station. The doctor gave him a few potions which lessened the pain.

"You didn't have to do that," he groaned, the harshness of his tone sounding impotent at the sight of his injuries. "I would have gotten myself out eventually."

Rinoa smiled. "Eventually."

"Thank you anyway," he said, a bit awkwardly. But he clearly hated to be the object of charity, so he added somewhat reluctantly:

"Just tell me how I can pay you back."

Rinoa smiled, knowing from that moment on, she would have a friend in him.

"I'll let you know someday," she said before he passed out.

He was out cold for five nights straight.

"Look Angelo," she said, hugging her dog as she sat beside this sleeping stranger. "That's what a hero looks like."

One night she must have dozed off, because she awoke to shouts of protests. On the hospital bed was Angelo, passionately licking the face of a puzzled but awake young man.

"Hey missy," he said, struggling under the weight of this mammoth of a dog, "is that why you saved me? So your dog can _lick_ me to death?"

Rinoa laughed, feeling immensely relieved. "Down boy," she said and was promptly ignored.

"Why did you save my ass?" he asked more seriously, while still struggling to fend off the dog.

"Why did you try to save the Mayor's family?"

"I had nothing better to do."

"Neither did I," she replied.

Seifer smiled. "A motivated girl like you ...definitely a keeper."

During the next few weeks he spent recovering at the clinic, she and Angelo had visited him every day. He told her that his name was Seifer Almasy . Being chained to his hospital bed, there was not much for him to do but tell her of the thrilling life he led as a cadet at Balamb Garden. He dazzled her with stories of GFs, mercenaries, combat and top-secret missions he had undertaken at great peril and of course, with resounding success. She also discovered that they were both orphans.

At first she was reluctant to say anything about her life. Compared to his rousing tales, the fluff of her existence barely amounted to a single anecdote. But Seifer being who he was, insisted on finding out more. He questioned her on the minutiae of her most ordinary accomplishments. Laughed at all her jokes. Flirted outrageously with her. He even bluntly criticised her posture when wielding Valkyrie and the time she took between attacks, and gave tips on how to be a better fighter. He made her talk about her dreams. About growing up in the Timber Juvenile Home center and about living the little life.

Those few hours she spent at his bedside every day were the happiest of her life. He seemed to enjoy her company, and as for Angelo, well he seemed to moderate his distaste for the overaffectionate dog whenever she was around.

"Sometimes," she said, one day when she felt free and bold, "I want to fly away. Just sprout some wings and fly right over the border of this town."

"Where would you go?"

"I don't know."

"You gotta pick a place, have a destiny."

"What's yours?"

"Ah," he said uncomfortably, "mine's complicated. There's an enemy I need to defeat, vengeance to be had etc."

She had pressed him, but he changed the subject. And he never spoke about what brought him into the hands of his Galbadian captors in the first place.

Something haunted him. Every day he asked Rinoa for a newspaper and wouldn't even begin speaking to her until he had read every last page.

And every day he seemed disappointed.

When to her disappointment, he was discharged by the hospital, he insisted on returning promptly to Balamb. There was an air of urgency to his eagerness to get back to Garden.

"I have lingered here for too long," he had said. "But perhaps it's not too late to take care of someone."

He never wanted to explain _who_ it was that needed to be _taken care_ of.

This was long time coming. Of course it had to end. Rinoa had been practicing several wildly different goodbyes and she wasn't sure what to say when they finally arrived at Timber train station.

_See you again. I love you. Please don't go. Goodbye._

"Come with me," he said suddenly, cutting her off before she could settle on one. "Come with me to Garden."

Rinoa hesitated, shocked. This was in excess of any fantasy she'd had about their goodbyes.

"I don't think-"

"Come on," Seifer insisted. "Living here in Timber is charming and all, but you could do better Heartilly."

"Better?"

"Well yeah, this town is for people who refuse to see what life's about. Timber isn't for the likes of you. Didn't you say that wanted to leave and fly away? Do something exciting with your life?"

She shook her head. "That was just silly escapism."

"It could be more than a dream. Don't you want to wake up every day and know that this day will be unlike any other before? Don't you want to fight for justice and honour?"

"Seifer, what honour is there in killing?"

"What do you know of it," he said, angry suddenly. "It's easy to sit in a one horse town like this and condemn anyone who's made any kind of choice. Killing? Only ignorant civilians go around talking of _killing_. To keep going, a soldier makes a choice and he has to keep making it every day. Mine's to stand with the innocent and fight evil."

Rinoa scoffed. Then stopped, because in his eyes appeared a crushing sort of distance. She felt like she lost him then and if she couldn't keep him, this was not how she wanted to lose the best thing that had happened to her in years.

"Yes, good and evil," he said. "I'm not afraid to say it, because I'm not afraid to make a choice. Good, evil, right, wrong, crime, justice. But you'll tell me there's no such thing, right?"

"There's no such thing," she repeated quietly.

"Ain't that convenient," he sneered, "saves you from having to pick a side.

You think you're happy here? You stay here because you're afraid, afraid of doing something that, Hyne forbid, you might actually want. You're afraid of a world that will make your life in Timber, hopelessly dull and meaningless in comparison. Isn't that right Heartilly?"

"Right, my life here might not have been ideal Seifer," Rinoa said as her anger rose with his, hurt by his words. "It might seem dull to likes of you. But what do you know of it anyway? You're a sixteen year-old who kills for a living. Don't tell me of sadness, yes I might be miserable here sometimes, but at least I'm not the one causing the misery."

Seifer looked at her, he closed his eyes, took a breath and when he opened them again he had dislodged the knife of her comments and he had made another choice.

"Right my darling country girl," he said, his voice cold. He leaned in closer, "Where do you think your fancy little dreams will take you? Nowhere, you'll end up staying in this godforsaken town forever, wishing you had followed me to Garden. Stay here Heartilly, see if I care.

He paused to take a long hard look at a girl he had only known for a few weeks. "I guess this town finally got the best of you huh."

Suddenly he kissed her, fast and urgently. She could feel the anger that made him want to crush her lips; crush the weakness out of her. And a part of her wanted him to succeed. At long last he let her go.

As the announcement for the train to Balamb rang through the speakers, Seifer swung his pack over his shoulder and walked towards the train. Just before he got on, he turned to her:

"Goodbye Rinoa," he said, "you're not half the woman I thought you were."

That was the last time she ever saw him.

With Seifer gone, Rinoa's life began the crumble from underneath her feet, one tiny bit at a time, until the day when she paid the final price for saving Seifer. The soldier called Wedge must have convinced the army that she was a notorious terrorist and subsequently the good government of Galbadia bombed the hell out her tiny house.

But on that fateful day, Rinoa had been out training with her Cardinal in the fields near Timber. She was practicing some moves Seifer had taught her, when the Galbadians pulverized the little apartment she lived in.

_Angelo_. Her only family in the world, the dog that was an extension of herself, was still in the house. She had left him to face the wrath of Galbadia all alone. Everything from now on would be tainted. Losses didn't come bigger than this, than Angelo. There was nothing for her in this world. Nothing to do but pack up and leave it all behind.

Before she did, Rinoa had looked upon the remains of her old home and for a moment fancied that underneath all the ashes, somewhere buried deep, would be the first shoots of a new beginning.

She flung her Cardinal over her shoulder and thought about her old home. She thought about Seifer and the _what ifs._

She thought of him, pinned against the wall and what it had taken for her to save him.

There was a million things she would regret, but claiming him as her prize wasn't one of them.

* * *

A sudden knock on her door brutally interrupted her reverie. Rinoa stood and opened the door to find Selphie Tilmett. The girl was friendly, forward in ways that startled her sometimes. But she was also new and unburdened by Garden's many tragedies. She had learned about Seifer and the horrible mission and knew exactly who Rinoa was. She had listened to the gossip, interpreted the taunts and after taking in the many layers of resentment towards Rinoa Heartilly, Selphie on the first day of their SeeD exam, had knocked on Rinoa's dormroom presenting her with a plate of steaming fresh pancakes.

She had nudged Zell, their other squad member, into talking to Rinoa again. The boy seemed conflicted but clearly longed to get past their last conversation. So they had spoken like real people and Rinoa now rusty with human interaction, was surprised to find herself with two people she could finally trust in a battle.

No wonder their exam had gone so well.

But tonight, Selphie's smile froze when she took in Rinoa's clothes.

"Hey, why aren't you dressed yet," she said, scanadlised by the lack of effort. "The party's already started."

"I'm not going," Rinoa said, but smiled to lessen the bluntness of her comment. "I am tired, besides I don't feel comfortable in large crowds."

"How can you say that, it's like the party of the year!"

She sighed. "It's only a party."

Selphie gave her a look of disbelief.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Huh?"

Selphie pushed Rinoa out of the way and marched into her room.

"_Only_ a party?" she said, dramatically. She grabbed the SeeD uniform hanging from the wardrobe door and placed it gently on the bed. "It's the beginning of the rest of your life as a SeeD! You can't live a life you don't remember starting you silly girl. C'mon it's time to dance!"

"It's hard to dance when every potential dance partner dreams of punching you in the face."

"Oh I'm sure there's someone who doesn't want to punch yuo. Someone new or from out of town. Or you can always dance with Zell?"

Rinoa laughed. "Yes, there's always that. But then there's the legion of girls who'll poison my wine if I dare to touch him."

"Yeah his fangirls are craaaazy," agreed Selphie.

Selphie turned to Rinoa and the cheeriness made way for a darker, more knowing expression.

"You don't know how many celebrations you've got left or if after tonight, there's anything to celebrate at all. Best take the nights you can get huh."

Rinoa smiled, though she didn't agree. In the past year she had gradually realized that her aspirations weren't the same as her class-mates. Most of the students had literary starved themselves out in anticipation of that ever glorious title of SeeD. While she had spent hours wondering why it was that she didn't feel the same.

Rinoa realized that she couldn't see the purpose beyond the strike of her weapon. She had tried desperately to feel something, excitement, fear, happiness, resentment, but the only sentiment she recognised was indifference. Sometimes she wondered whether it had been right to stay after she learned of Seifer's death.

Cid had been so understanding, so full of concern for her, while Rinoa took in the horror of his news. With effort the girl had thanked this kind man for his time and turned to leave on a journey with no destination. Alone and ruined in almost every way.

But the Headmaster had held her back and to her surprise, insisted that she join Garden. He promised her a new home, promised her a million things she couldn't remember, but she didn't care whether those things were cheap and thin compared to what Seifer might have offered her. There really was nothing to lose, so why not take up the money and the title?

In a way she found solace in living the life Seifer might have lived.

"C'mon Rinoa, please," Selphie said with a girlish pout, the momentary gloom quickly shedded by her fixed eternal optimism. Rinoa smiled. When was the last time someone other than Cid had asked for her company? And the girl was right.

_Best take the ones you can get._

"Alright," she agreed, "just give me a second."

Selphie jumped up. "Yay. You get dressed, I'm going back to the dance floor and hunt down some stranger willing to dance with you."

Rinoa shook her head. "Great."

She closed the door behind her and removed her sweater. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a plastic bag. It was a bag she had forgotten about since the day she enrolled in Garden.

A memory of an age past.

She picked up the bag and pulled out a dress, her hands touched the ivory colored chiffon fabric and the cool soft satin underneath it. It was the dress she had bought the day after meeting Seifer. Back then she had not wanted to admit it to herself, but should Seifer want to take her out one day after he had recovered, well . . .

It was best to be prepared, was all.

The dress had been at the tailor's for adjustments when her house got destroyed. Rinoa had never been one to attach much sentimental value to material things, but this dress was the only thing that, together with her weapon, truly belonged to Rinoa Heartilly and not to Garden. She had hoped that when she came to Garden to find Seifer, he would have given her an occasion to wear this dress after all.

_You think you're happy here? _

It killed her, to know that she could never wear this dress.

She fondly stroked the silky material. It was a beautiful dress, too beautiful to be wasted on moths. Rinoa laid out the dress next to her SeeD uniform on the bed. Two colors, two divergent identities.

_It's going to be the beginning of the rest of your life as a SeeD_

_Rest. Of. Your. Life  
_

She held the dress up to herself in the mirror and swayed to the echoes of some faraway waltz.

Maybe she could be herself for just one night?

* * *

**~ _ Goodbye Quistis ~_**

Former instructor Quistis Trepe had been walking the empty hallways most of the night, as she watched the rippling shadows on the walls caused by the delicate union of water and light. She had derived a certain guilty pleasure from her idle stroll, circling around the halls, listening to the fountain drips and the music in the distance. At some point, weary of the halls and the sounds of distant laughter, she decided that she was tired of seeing the same things in the same order. Ignoring the tempting music flowing out of the quad, she made for the exit.

She ached to have her hair loose on her shoulder, she desired the relief of the strain of her bun. But she was still outside the safe confines of her room. People expected elegance from her, an aloof beauty, a frigid bitch. She couldn't walk around like a nymphet, with her golden hair flowing in the wind, why, it would be no less out of character than giggling was.

She couldn't remember how it had started. She hadn't always been this joyless, had she? Didn't she have friends once upon a time? Admireres , people who liked her because she was well…likable.

Maybe it was when Seifer died and she herself nearly died. Maybe it was the day she lost faith in everyone, when she learned you couldn't trust anyone.

On her way out she saw a young man. He was tall, handsome and out of uniform. Quistis suddenly had the feeling he had been staring at her before she noticed him. His presence out here intruded on her solitude. Still, better a stranger than another SeeD.

"A guest?" she asked. "Hm, admittance hours are over really."

"I was held up," he said.

She nodded. "The SeeD celebration ball is to your left, at the Quad, you won't fail to hear the noise of our buoyant little community."

The man narrowed his eyes at this.

"Enjoy yourself tonight," she said, ignoring him and waved him away to continue on her walk.

A few beats later she turned around and there he was, still watching her. Quistis frowned. The crystal blues of his eyes bothered her. They made her feel like an object of curiousity, like he was the examiner, she the puzzle. _Good luck with that_, she thought and left the man alone with his riddles.

As she stepped outside, the night enveloped her in its chilly reassuring sort of way. There were stars overhead, specks of chopped beauty sprinkled over the face of heaven. But they didn't interest her, stars never did, she didn't care for things that were out of her reach.

The guard was slumped in his chair.

"Good evening Werner," she said.

The man woke up with a guilty start. "Hey instructor."

"Dozing off on duty again?'

"Dear me, I have," Werner said, with a dazed look in his eyes. "But I assure you Instructor, not a mouse will've gotten a quickie on me, as true as the sun shines, believe you me."

"That's great Werner," she responded absently, curiousity compelling her to turn around again.

This time the young man was gone. For a moment Quistis felt like there had been a mistake, that she ought to abandon her idle stroll and talk to him some more. She sighed. Quistis had never been the impulsive type.

She continued her walk around Garden, enjoying the beauty of this place once cleansed of light and people. It was a beautiful evening and in her solitude trees came to her like shadows in a dream. Suddenly shapes in the darkness caught her attention. As she stepped closer she realized they were the tombs and graves stones of fallen SeeDs and cadets. The tombs were for instructors, valiant combatants and others who had some distinction of some sort. Everyone else got an identical headstone with the SeeD emblem, even those whose bodies were never recovered; their graves were dug and filled with the same earth. Garden deemed that all its members deserved a place to rest after so much toil.

That's when she remembered.

There would be one who did not have a headstone.

She crossed the dark paths in this vast graveyard, feeling her way around with blind certainty. After walking for several minutes, she saw a small untended stone the size of a bird, hidden under the hulking shadow of a tree. It was quite a distance from the tombs and headstones, outside the perfectly designed symmetric pattern of graves. She wouldn't have been able to find it, if she hadn't known it was there.

Quistis bent down to clear the dust and weeds away, to reveal a small brass plaque.

SEIFER ALMASY

No Garden emblem, no date, no commemorating words. Just the grave of a fallen one.

One who should not even have had a plaque to honor his life. She didn't know why she was here. He hadn't meant much to her, in fact, he had tried to murder her and his fellow classmates during her qualifying SeeD exam.

As she hugged herself against the cutting cold, she remembered how she led the SeeD exam two years ago. They had been sitting in a train when it happened, trying to enter Timber and guard the city borders, by the orders of a Timberian resistance group.

But the mission would remain forever unaccomplished because of Seifer's treason.

Yes, he had always been a bit hardheaded in class, and yes, he did spend more time in disciplinary rooms than classrooms. But Quistis liked to think that he had been deluded, that he hadn't foreseen what his 'benefactors' had intended for him to do. She didn't know how his corruption had come about. Had they offered him money? A position of authority?

Some nights, when she felt uncertain of her place in the world, she thought back to this day. To his face on the other side of the train window. _That _smile. His last words to her.

_Goodbye Quistis_

She shivered, and willed herself to forget those words for the hundredth time.

But what could someone possibly offer a sixteen year old that would drive him to betrayal?

Whatever it was, she hoped it was worth leaving them all for.

That it was worth dying for.

* * *

Squall Leonheart looked down upon the dark meadows of Balamb as the helicopter swiftly passed over the dark landscape. Here and there he could see the flash of a monster's attack. The sky was clear, stars covered his vision as far as he could see, like scattered light seen through a crystal.

Then suddenly, a ghostly apparition emerged from the shadows. The quiet spectral lights of Balamb Garden lit up his vision of the dark island.

The anxiety surprised him. But he loved it. The way his senses sharpened themselves until they were stark and aware, and as deadly as any weapon. He treasured the anticipation, it was an antidote that would momentarily relief the dark lethargic cavity of his heart, the carcass long infested with inertia. Sudden emotions surprised him, it was unsettling for someone who walked through life wrapped in sheets of duty. But on this unpredictable night, he felt restless, perturbed by this sense of expectation.

_When all else is gone, it is me who will be waiting for you._

Squall had lied to her, he wasn't just doing this out of respect for Edea. Now that she was gone, Cid was all that remained from his past. Before he killed him, Squall just needed to know if there was anything Cid knew.

Anything that was _worth _knowing.

Finally the helicopter prepared to land somewhere near the main entrance. When the pilot turned the engines off, Squall waited for a few minutes, making sure no one came out of Garden at the sound of the landing helicopter. But the island was quiet and nothing walked its dark paths. Squall nodded at the pilot to take off and station somewhere near the forest where no one would notice it, while he was in Garden.

Squall ran his finger over the hilt of the sheathed gunblade, the weapon he relied on more than on his sorcerer's powers. It felt reassuring to feel the weight of something that wasn't powered by magic, to know that not every powerful thing was beyond the framework of the physical universe.

He walked through the small gates at the front entrance. A man sitting at the window to his right suddenly noticed him.

"Hey, come back, students and staff only!" he yelled.

Squall casted _sleep_ on the man without even paying him a glance. The man immediately dozed off. He made his way further into the heart of Garden.

The silence unsettled him at first. There wasn't a SeeD in sight, no cadets and no staff. It was too early to be asleep, too early for this eerie emptiness.

At the end of the main hallway, he came upon a directory map. As he studied the map he already knew by heart, Squall suddenly heard a faint music coming from the distance. It was a popular cheery melody, one he had heard young mortals hum as they strolled past him unaware. Usually when they caught sight of him, the humming died out, just like their cheer.

It wasn't a trap.

They were just having a celebration of some sort. No doubt the Headmaster would be there leading the festivities. He would look there first.

As Squall turned left to leave for Quad, he caught sight of a young woman just emerging from around the corner. She didn't notice him, as her eyes were downcast, counting the tiles and the cracks in the marble as she walked in his direction, with her hands clasped behind her back. She didn't wear a SeeD uniform, but a pink top with a matching knee-length skirt. Her blonde hair fell in her face, hiding her from sight.

Squall recognised her walk, the way her feet dragged themselves across the ground, trying to reverse with every step forward. It's a slow tiring effort, to walk without moving forward. It's how you walk when you're headed for no particlar destination. When you can't go on and can't stay still.

He realised he was staring at her when he looked up and saw that she was watching him too. Again, he felt something emerge inside of him, a sense of _waking up_. Alarm bells ticking into life, filtering through the mass of time and space, ticking until the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Her eyes were blue, lighter than his. There was something about the composition of her appearance that struck him as incredibly familiar. Had he seen her in Deling City? Maybe she was one of the many young rich socialites in Deling City who attended any event that provided drinks and important people.

_No, that wasn't it._

"A guest?" she said. "Hm, admittance hours are over really."

"I was held up," he lied quickly.

"The SeeD celebration ball is to your left, at the Quad, you won't fail to hear the noise of our _buoyant_ little community," she said. He noted the bitter emphasis.

He hesitated. "Thank you."

"Enjoy yourself tonight."

She waved her hand, and went on her way in the direction of the exit. Before she left the building, she turned and stared at him.

And again, Squall found it impossible to look away first.

The night had only just begun, but already he was certain of something.

He had been right to come.


	5. First Night

Chapter 5 – First Night

**_~ Care to dance? _**

_"These mortals fear their own weakness,"_ Ultimecia had said to him once, _"SeeD is a tool to fuel their fear. They will halt at nothing. They thirst to see your head at their feet and your body in the flames._ _If you destroy SeeD, you will destroy their fear."_

These words held once a revolting truth, but now they sounded absurdly dull, dimmed by the bright lights of the ballroom and masked by the laughter of young inebriated dancers.

_So these are the vicious SeeDs she's been talking about,_ Squall thought as a drunken young man collapsed on the floor at his feet.

Squall had been watching his enemies for the last hour, his eyes scanning the crowd for a man whose face he had only seen in pictures, but the headmaster was nowhere to be found. So many people, dancing, talking, chewing like they had nothing to fear.

_Are these really soldiers?_

The hall was opulently decorated. It reminded him of Ultimecia's balls in Deling City; gaudy lush affairs attended by important people looking to settle their influence.

Except here, the people seemed to be having…well…fun.

He was so busy monitoring every door with patient deadly attention, that Squall failed to see a pretty girl in blue walk up to him. It wasn't until the second time she spoke, that he took notice of her.

"Would you like a drink sir?" she asked, holding up a tray with crystal glasses. She took his silence for yes and gently thrust a glass into his hands before she went away.

Squall watched the blood-red liquid with a frown and put it away on a nearby table. He once more took in these unfamiliar surroundings. Banners of blue and flowers hung from the walls. Even the glass dome-ceiling revealed a diamond littered sky which blended seamlessly with the lavish decorations of the room.

He was about to avert his eyes from the sky, when something bright shot across the heavens, a sudden secretive flash that startled him. It took him a second to process what happened. Was that a shooting star? He couldn't be sure; after all he'd never seen one before. People like him didn't have the time for these things. There were too many people to kill; too many conspiracies to organise to stop and look at the stars.

The flash disappeared into the darkness, its light leaving only a momentary echo in his eye. He continued to stare, long after this after-image had faded and the starry sky turned stationary again. He watched; quietly waiting for something to happen again.

He tore himself away from the sky and was immediately faced with two dark eyes staring straight at him. It took him a second to establish that they belonged to a girl. A brunette, her dark hair hugging her cheeks, curling up just above her breast. She wore a dress of a shade which reminded him of an early moon. She raised an eyebrow and pointed her index finger up to the sky to indicate that she too had seen the same rare phenomenon a second ago.

Squall had the odd feeling that she had been watching him for quite a while. He considered whether she recognised him and how he ought to kill her in a room full of people, when a sudden smile on her face paused his thoughts. _What was she smiling about?_

The girl walked over to him and somehow Squall didn't move; once again waiting for something to happen. It was clear though, even to his suspicious self, that this was not the approach of an enemy. Her step was just as her dress, light and elegant, like she had all the time in the world.

When she finally stood in front of him, she smiled.

"You are not from around here, are you?"

Inconspicuously, he fingered the handle of his gunblade. _Just wait_.

"Care to dance?" she asked when he didn't reply.

All his suspicions evaporated. She didn't know who he was. Best to keep it that way. He ignored her and forced his eyes back to the dance floor, watching out for the headmaster.

She did a step to the right to block his vision. "Let me guess, you only dance with people you like?"

He finally looked at her. Pretty girl, she seemed young and her flirting was cute, _innocent_. Almost instantly he distrusted the sincerity of her appearance. Whatever she was tonight, this _lightness_, she wasn't always like this. She wore it like she wore that yellow dress.

_Why?_

Was she on a mission too? He recognized the expression in her eyes; it was the same expression he saw in Ultimecia's eyes; the same expression the man in the mirror had sometimes. Squall had the feeling that she was acting a role and that she was doing it badly.

Still, beyond the lightness and the confidence, she was nervous. Her smile was fixed, slightly worried even. She was clearly experimenting. Something about this prevented him from turning his back on her again. He could say no but he couldn't ignore her. Squall considered a moment and decided he would tell her he was busy and send her off politely. No point in making a scene in the middle of a mission.

But suddenly instead, he said: "I can't dance."

Upon hearing his voice for the first time, the sweetness disappeared and she raised a knowing eyebrow.

"Come on," she demanded as she took his hand to his surprise. "I've been looking all night for someone to dance with. It's first day of the rest of my life apparently."

_Apparently_

For the first time he took notice of the music. It was an eastern waltz and the notes swept over the dance floor, infinitely enticing and charming. Somehow these pulses of music carried a note of irony that he found hard to enjoy. It was a mockery really, this counterfeit indulgence. What would they think of this in Deling City, the scary Lord Sorcerer indulging in such mortal pleasures.

The girl took no notice of this and cut a decisive path through the twirling crowd. She halted suddenly in the middle of the dance floor, ignoring the curious glances of the other dancers. She took his right hand and placed it on her hip. The soft fabric of her dress felt cool and soft under his fingers. Then, she began to dance.

Awkwardly he tried to follow her steps, but he couldn't concentrate as his gaze traveled all over the ballroom in search of the headmaster. Being distracted as he was, with his head lost in the mission ahead, Squall bumped into the girl as she suddenly inexplicably halted mid- move.

She smiled apologetically and mouthed a silent 'sorry'.

What was this, if not hypocrisy? He didn't want to move among them, to take pleasure in anything that came from the same minds that wanted to destroy him. More than a little annoyed with himself, he turned to walk away and resume his search for the headmaster. The girl however, had different plans for this night. Firmer than he expected from her slender physique, he felt her grip on his wrist. Boldly she pulled him back to their original position on the dance floor.

"The dance isn't over yet," she cheekily reminded him the way she might remind a child to finish his vegetables.

Before he had the time to position himself, she had already swept off with him in the ritual of the waltz. An embarrassing collision with another pair followed next.

"Look out where you're going man," an irritated male SeeD snapped at him, vexed that he missed a particularly complex move to impress his blonde date.

For the first time in his life, Squall felt his cheeks burn and immediately his hand shot up to unleash a spell on the boy. But the girl reacted faster and stuck her tongue out at him. Squall stared at her, suddenly aware of his own childish and foolish paranoia.

_Did she really just stick out her tongue?_

Her amazingly bland reaction somehow released some of the tension that was building inside of him. Squall slowly came to realization that nobody in this building knew who he was. There was no one here to challenge his purpose. The obnoxious guy just muttered something and kept out of their way.

The girl turned back to him and pulled him gently closer. The ends of her lips were raised slightly and he couldn't tell whether she was smiling or grinning. She didn't move and seemed to expect him to lead. Squall grabbed her hand and managed to lead her in a perfect twirl.

And from that moment on, things were different.

Somehow the mission lost its hold over him. The dance was his only task. The pattern became clear to him and he now understood the perfect progression of twirls and slides and endless turns. At times she moved into him, close into his arms and then once again he would uncoil her, throw her out to the world, waiting for the next beat that would bring her back to him again.

Everything was forgotten. For just a few minutes, they had no greater purpose than to hold their own against the music.

They were simply dancing.

Every time he pulled her closer according to the pattern of the waltz, a waft of her scent came over him. It was unlike any perfume he ever encountered. It was hardly detectable, covering her like a blanket of light. To him it seemed embedded in every particle of her body; it was in her hair, on her breasts, on the hand that lay on his shoulder, on the lips that told him to move faster.

He completed the last few steps effortlessly as though he had done it all his life, though he actually hadn't. He finished the dance with one last flawless move and she landed back in his arms.

The edges of her silky black hair brushed his fingers. For a long impossible second Squall considered winding a lock around his finger. It seemed like the thing to do. Her head rested against his chest, making for herself a pillow that followed the motions of his heart.

"You dance well," she said.

He decided that he liked her voice, it rung pleasantly in his ear. It wasn't urging him to do something or lecturing him on the ways of politics. It wasn't trembling with fear. Tonight, under a sky littered with diamonds and sudden surprises, on a night that was beyond possibility, she wasn't placing any demands on him. She would not ask him to spare her. She would not ask him to prove his devotion and nor recoil from his touch.

All she wanted was a dance or two.

"Thank you," he said.

The sorcerer had taken the first step in a journey that started centuries ago. He had come with a goal that provided the groundwork for the few beliefs he held. He had come here with a purpose. But right now, as his fingers inched closer to her hair, he couldn't remember for the life of him what that was.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

He hesitated. "I'm wondering about something."

Her fingers moved through his honey-brown hair, defeating his lack of courage with her own and curled a lock around her thumb. She smiled and again she gave him that feeling of _watchfulness_. Squall was suddenly and most explicitly aware of his hand on her waist, of the silky material of her dress, of the warm smooth skin beneath it. He swallowed, tried to keep his mind on other things, on matters of great importance that he couldn't remember.

"What are you wondering?"

"Why I'm here," he answered truthfully.

Her smile evaporated, and a distant look appeared in her eyes, where a moment ago it had been all glitter and excitement.

"I wonder the same sometimes."

Something about her reply touched the edges of his lips, a transformation that in another life might have produced a decent smile. His hands stroked the ivory silk material of her dress. Squall took in that fragrance that emanated from her, the one he just couldn't place.

"Do you think we'll figure it out sometime?" he asked, immediately wishing he could take back the words.

She smiled that peculiar smile again, one that stood at the boundary of where a smile fades into a grin.

That impossible first night, at the midst of his sworn enemies, Squall found something. He didn't know what _exactly_, but he knew that it was something that he had been searching for a long while since. Something sporadic and tenuous like . . . . like a truth. A truth that had eluded him, and yet one that still escaped analysis.

Hyne, what _was_ that fragrance she wore?

He was about to ask her, when an explosion overhead distracted her. In the sky dozens of colors flashed in a brilliant eruption of fireworks across the heavens. She watched the kaleidoscopic sky in awe, a smile of unadulterated delight spreading across her face. She seemed very young then and this time the innocence had a touch of an old, distant truth to it.

With her attention elsewhere, Squall took the liberty of studying her face without fear of being watched himself. His eyes followed the contour of her bumpy nose and the outline of her ear. The inexorable sorcerer of Deling was mapping her cheekbones, her dark lashes, the sly pink shine on her lips. There was no forgetting this one. He usually wasn't very good with faces, but then again, when had he ever the time to study another human being from this close?

He watched the look on her face; that delighted silly expression, and absently wondered if it would still be there when she turned her gaze back to him. For reasons beyond his immediate comprehension, he somehow hoped it would.

Then just a little ways beyond the smile, beyond the eyes and the hair that he never touched, a sudden sight caught him off-guard.

A short middle-aged man disappeared through one of the entrance doors. It was the _headmaster_. His appearance shocked Squall back into reality. A reality in which his prey was about to get away. When the sparkling lights faded into nothingness, she turned her gaze back to him.

But his eyes were no longer on her.

He gave her a short excusing look as he untangled himself from the embrace of that elusive _something_. It was an overdue goodbye to dance and starlight and silly lapses in judgment. He turned on his heel and made for the doors. It was time to be the Sorceress's Knight again, or whatever it was they called him these days.

Squall didn't look back, but instead kept his eyes on his quarry. Yet he knew that if he turned, she wouldn't be there anymore. And somehow it was important, so _very_ important, that she wasn't gone.

He needed to know that he could always look back and find her standing there.

* * *

Rinoa didn't move as her dance partner walked further away from her without looking back. Already the night was passing into merely a memory, too soon was the dance fading into a dream.

_Goodbye stranger, _she thought wistfully. _Hope you found out why you were here_.

It was only when he passed through the entrance doors to the ballroom, that she remembered to breathe.

His eyes.

Bright and stunning. The alarming blue of his eyes leveled all her pretense. He hadn't responded to her flirting at first. But then he had turned to her and really _seen _her. He had looked and looked, and wrapped his attention around her until she was caught in this exclusive tunnel vision. It almost ignited a certain paranoia in her. Like he had seen everything in her. It wasn't true of course, but still. His gaze was focused and exploring. And normally she would have found the intensity alarming and a thousand defenses would have shot up around her .

_But . . .  
_

There was also that firm way he held onto her, even as he was thinking of leaving, like he was uncertain and not used to it. He seemed startled by other dancers and crossed the dance floor like he had never seen one before. And then sometime during the waltz, she felt him come alive in her arms and change into something else. She couldn't remember the last time someone opened up to her like that. Like she had given something away that was gratefully received.

She knew that she would see him again. She just had to.

_The first night of the rest of your life_

Nights like these happened for a reason.

* * *

**~ "_Finish the job you came to do" _~**

The man before him didn't turn as Squall approached the Directory where he was standing.

He was a chubby man, in his forties, amicable by appearance and from what he had heard, a downright mortal monster by heart. When Squall held still behind him, the Headmaster turned to meet him. There wasn't the slightest trace of surprise in his eyes. It was as though the Headmaster had been expecting this intrusion and had been waiting for him in the solitude of the hallway, away from the hundreds of unwary people in the ballroom.

"Sorcerer Leonheart," Cid said by way of greeting, "I trust you enjoyed tonight's festivities?"

"You've been expecting me?" Squall asked him, already knowing what the answer would be.

"The Sorceress Edea sent you, am I right?"

"Do you have so many enemies to keep track of?"

Cid Kramer chuckled under his breath. "Indeed I have sorcerer Leonheart, it's not very uncommon in my line of work. I'm sure you experience the same in yours."

Squall didn't reply.

Fearlessly Cid stepped closer to the sorcerer. "How is she," he asked quietly, "Edea?"

_Edea? She's dead Cid, or as good as dead_.

"Edea is fine," he replied curtly.

For the first time tonight, his gaze wandered away from the Sorcerer. His thoughts headed decades into the past, as he stared through the watery depths of the pond that circled around the center of the main hall. It had been many years now, but Cid had never really recovered from the news that Edea was the new ruling Sorceress. He so much wanted to talk to her, to see her one last time. And knowing that he now would never be able to, wrenched his heart into a thousand irreparable pieces.

"The end is near now, never realized how near," Cid muttered. "You are exactly as you should be and yet a thousand times worse than you could have been."

The glare in Squall's eyes flared anew. "What do you mean by that?"

His question shook the Headmaster from his brief reflection. "Oh never mind, we better get on with it. Time is already catching up with us. I have done my part; the rest is up to the sorceress Ultimecia and the world."

Squall was taken aback for a moment. "You know about Ultimecia?"

Cid shrugged. "Edea wasn't the only one who was there that day."

Alarm bells sounded in Squall's mind. This man knew about Edea and Ultimecia! He knew them both from a time when the two didn't inhabit the same body? In all these years, Ultimecia never even hinted at this impossible former acquaintance. Even Edea, vocal though she was about her husband's treachery, never mentioned Ultimecia to him. He always assumed that Edea never knew Ultimecia before she was forced to surrender her body to the witch.

"The day the Estharians burnt the orphanage down?" Squall asked him.

The headmaster frowned. "No, of course not," he replied. "The other day, you know, when it all started, when you received your powers."

Squall didn't remember anything about the day he received his powers. The Sorcerer held the Headmaster in his deadly gaze, as his mind worked furiously to reconcile this new information with the image of the past he had formed over the last decade. The fetters of the past were coming undone and all the events he couldn't remember poured out in an unceasing torrent of questions. Suddenly he noticed the glaring voids in his life. The torn chapters that he always regarded as trivial and irrelevant now contained entire epic events of their own. Gaps so crucial that he could never explain away, he had forced himself to ignore. Yet now the abyss of ignorance loomed so large, that he found it absurd that he had never noticed it.

"Has Edea not explained to you what happened?" Cid asked quietly.

No she never had. Edea had told him that he had received powers from a dying witch, like she had in her youth. Snippets of the days leading up to the Estharian assault on the Orphanage came to him. Squall remembered children huddling together in a corner, children who were once his friends regarded him with fear. One day, a blast woke him from his sleep, and Edea was there. She was crying as she carried him out of the burning building. His last memory of that day was seeing the roaring flames eat away at the building that had been his home for most of his life. Squall had never forgotten how eerily beautiful the flames had been against the canvas of the evening sky.

It was the last time he had truly watched the stars.

"If she had, I wouldn't be asking you," Squall said impatiently.

"Right, but then, why are you here then if she hasn't?"

It was Squall's turn to be surprised. "Why I'm here?"

The headmaster nodded.

"I'm here because you and your Garden have wanted me dead since I my childhood," Squall said calmly. "Why _else_ would I be here?"

The old man's eyes focused on him, like he was really seeing the Lord Sorcerer for the first time. There was a shade of confusion in the Headmaster's eyes that Squall was sure mirrored his own. The old man was also trying to find an explanation for the things they had both learnt tonight.

"Well I'm not sure what she's playing at," Cid said finally, "but whatever it is, I don't care. I think I've said enough."

A seed of doubt burrowed into Squall's mind, and he wondered what it was that Ultimecia had not told him.

"Well," the headmaster said impatiently, "I assume you came to take me down. So do your worst Sorcerer and better be quick about it."

Squall paused for a moment, one infinite moment where he considered something impossible.

"No, that won't do," Squall finally said.

Cid looked genuinely puzzled. "Aren't you going to kill me?"

Squall shrugged. "Eventually yes, but for now you are of better use to us alive."

For the first time a hint of urgent panic appeared in the older expression. "Listen to me you obnoxious excuse for a human being," Cid said venomously, "You won't get anything out of me about Garden. You could spend years of torture on me, and you wouldn't be any further then than you are today. So stop playing around and finish the job you came to do."

"We don't need intelligence headmaster," Squall said calmly, "We already know everything we need to about Garden."

"But why then," Cid said suspiciously, "why will you not kill me and get this over with."

Squall crossed his arms as he frowned. "Well for one, you seem a bit eager for me to kill you, and something tells me that playing into your hand would be somewhat foolish."

Cid stood fazed, wondering what implications this turn of events would have on Garden's plans.

"Anyway," Squall said, "the party seems to be over, so we'd better be on our way."

Before Cid could utter another word, Squall cast triple _sleep_ on him. He caught the Headmaster's limp body and pulled him over his shoulder.

That was it. Squall crossed the main hallway and when he passed the entrance guard he re-casted sleep on him. Squall stepped outside to meet the dark grasslands, with his quarry safely resting on his shoulder, and he signaled for the helicopter to come. The night went well.

Exceptionally well.

Squall now knew that there was something he needed to know. Something that was _worth_ knowing. As the helicopter rose to bear him back to Deling City, Squall watched Balamb Garden shining like a beacon in the dark and he thought of _her_.

And he wondered why he was where he was.


	6. Morning Ever After

**Chapter 6 – Morning ever after**

**~_ Are you ready? _~**

In the distance she saw a car, stalled in the middle of the road. A lone woman was edging closer to the car. The silence was the worst; heralding the inevitable storm, like drums raising all anticipation beyond endurance. The world all around them was stark grey, hollowed; all its consequence reduced to just this empty road, the car and this woman who should have known better.

_This is it. _

A man whose face she could not see was holding Rinoa back, preventing her from running towards the woman. There was a hand on her mouth, the sweat and heat of his grip absorbed her screams. She could only watch the woman. Even at this great distance her fear was easily read in both the rush and caution of her step. She was hesitating, knowing that what she saw inside the car could save her or destroy her. The windows were blacked out and that's when she cried out, calling for a child.

_Rinoa _

This time around, Rinoa wanted to tell the woman that she was alright; to not touch that door handle. Stay away from the car.

In other dreams, Rinoa just watched, waiting to see what happened. Let the woman repeat the same mistakes. Simply watch her roast so deeply, the stink of it remained in the minutes and years that followed her death. What's the point in crying for someone who never learned and continued to trudge up the same ugly path _every single time_.

But in this dream, Rinoa had forgotten her exasperation. Right now futility seemed like an abstract notion at best, there was just too much room for hope. It was worth screaming out loud, it was worth struggling against the stranger who held her down.

_This time it'll be different._

The woman touched the passenger seat door, hesitantly, afraid of what she would find. Rinoa screamed. The woman didn't hear her, never heard her, so she pressed down on the handle. Another figure, a uniformed man, looking worn and ragged, ran towards the woman. He yelled at her, told her not to open the car. The man had known what was wrong with the car.

But before he could reach her and pull her away, the car exploded. The force blasted him away on his back. He never got up again. Rinoa could still see the woman, standing impossibly still at the center of the blaze, even as the car itself shattered to pieces around her and the ground underneath her cratered into an endless chasm. The woman was suspended, frozen with her hand on a handle that wasn't there. In her dreams, the charred woman endured beyond the fire, forever roasting at the center of an eternal explosion; charred but never withering.

The only moving thing in the air was the scream, ripping through the smoke, across distance and time. A cry that never really died out, an outburst of desperation that never really left the sky.

_Rinoa_

But the scream faded into the mist that appears between the stage of awakening and the will to continue the dream. She forced her mind to hold onto the voice long enough to identify its meaning. But the words blended with nothingness, meaning lost in the grey shades of her memories but the feeling of the words ever so vivid. She remembered the voice, though she could not assign a face to it. But even the sound faded into darkness as her awakening vision met with rays of brilliant sunlight.

The dream was gone and so was its memory. After a long yawn Rinoa flopped over and struggled out of her bed to get dressed while wondering, like every morning, what it was that had troubled her in her sleep.. The only thing she could ever remember was that unintelligible cry that still echoed against the hollow caves of her memory, ringing with such ferocity that it dulled any sound of the present. She wondered who it was that called out to her from the past.

But by the time Rinoa left her room to meet her fellow squad members at the Academy's front gates, her mind was occupied by another memory.

The night before replayed in her mind, always stuck on the same moment. In her head she was forever dancing the same dance with that boy. For some reason, being with him had reminded her of Seifer. Usually the thought of Seifer left a stubbornly persistent lump in her throat, but this time, the comparison made her smile.

What would be the chances of meeting him again? To see him one more time and ask him if he wanted to dance again.

"Oi Rinoa," a voice hollered, interrupting her thoughts. It was Zell of course; who else could shout her name with the same urgency as fire and bloody murder. The boy sprinted up to her and left behind the group of three female cadets he was talking to. All of them glared at Rinoa, hissing in whispers amongst themselves.

"Hi Zell," she answered him.

"Are you ready?"

"For what?"

"For our very first our super important ass-kicking mission of course?"

Rinoa shrugged. "I packed a sandwich and a book for the train ride. Does that count?"

Zell shook his head wearily. "You're such a geek."

"I guess."

Zell bit his lip, the humour making way for nervousness. Rinoa wondered what he was building towards.

"Hey, I just wanted to say I'm really sorry," blurted out.

She frowned. "Sorry for what?"

He hung his head. "For the way I treated you," he said quietly."

"Oh Zell . . ."

"No, I was a jerk," he interrupted her. "I know we've been joking and talking since our SeeD exam, but I know the last year's been tough on ya and I just blew you off like that. You didn't know about….erm…y'know, _him_. Still I just blamed you just like everyone else. So, I thought about it, like for _aaages_, how it make it up and I've decided I'm gonna let you do it."

Rinoa smiled. "Do what?"

Zell drew himself up, looking solemn and resolute. "Let you punch me in the face."

"You want me to punch you?"

He nodded.

"In the face?"

"Yes, but only _one_ punch though, so make it count."

He closed his eyes and steadied himself for what was about to come. Nothing happened for a long time, then quietly, Rinoa said:

"Open your eyes Zell."

She was looking at him with a serious expression. "I'm not going to punch you."

"But you have to," he whined miserably, "it is your _right_!"

"I'm not going to punch you," she repeated, "but you do deserve something."

Zell frowned, a little apprehensive what she had in mind and already regretting his offer. "What?"

"This."

She stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing this silly sweet boy in, hugging him tight. She gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. Zell remained frozen into place, unsure for a moment and then uttered a slow _Oh_. The boy wrapped his big muscular arms around the girl, happy to relinquish the bad vibes from the past year and happy to be this forgiven. He lifted her up and spun her around a couple of times until she laughed and punched his shoulders to escape his craziness.

He put her down and stuck out his hand, cocky and formal. "Friends?"

"Friends," she agreed and they shook on it.

"This means we'll always protect each other," he said.

Rinoa liked the sound of that. "Okay."

"And that you can come to me for any kick-boxing lessons."

"Okay and you can come to me for any cross-bow lessons."

Zell looked at the weapon strapped to her waist and snorted. Rinoa punched his arm.

"Okay okay," he said jumping out of the way, "you can teach me how to throw your little pins. Fine."

"Okay, now let's go meet Selphie by the front gate."

As they walked away, an empty soda can flew past her ear. Startled, Riona whipped her head round to see one of the female cadets throwing deadly looks at her.

Rinoa shook her head and kept walking.

"Sorry," whispered Zell, glancing nervously over his shoulder, "they do that sometimes."

"So this friendship thing," Rinoa asked waving a thumb at the group of girls, "does it include protection from the _Dinchtettes_?"

Zell groaned at the name. They weren't _all_ like that, but he had to admit that there was a slightly intense breed of chick that he dared not mess with. So he usually gave in and flexed his muscles when they asked him to, but avoided dating them unless they frightened him too much to say no. _What can you do?_

"Sorry, no," Zell said with a dramatic sigh, "it's every man for himself when it comes to crazy chicks."

* * *

_**~ Lesser SeeDs ~  
**__**  
**_

An average level 15 SeeD, called Quistis Trepe, walked up the stairs leading to the make-shift stage like a condemned criminal stepping up the execution block. There was no longer a title before her name. She was just a job now. A number. For reasons beyond her grasp, it fell to her to address the hundreds of students in the Quad. Zander seemed to think that the cadets and SeeDs needed to hear the shocking news from a familiar face, rather than some anonymous board member they rarely saw. So this was her pleasant charge, to quench the fire of disbelief that had raged among cadets and SeeDs, ever since Xu discovered that the Headmaster was missing earlier that morning.

The massive hall range with the chaos of noisy speculations, as all students exchanged theories of what caused the Headmaster's disappearance, all ranging from the plausible to the absurd. On her way to the Quad, Quistis had heard whispers of an Estharian secret science project that attempted to cross-breed Headmasters with Ruby Dragons, or something equally bizarre. Yet a few not so gullible students said that this reeked of a Galbadian conspiracy.

When she finally stood before the speakers stand, the humdrum of agitated voices died down to the occasional whisper.

"Good morning Garden," Quistis began, "As you have must have heard by now, the Headmaster is indeed missing. As we are still in the early stages of investigation, I cannot disclose much on this subject, so I suggest . . . "

"We have a right to know," a boy-cadet said, emboldened by the shouts of agreement from his fellow students, he stood on his seat to be heard all the clearer.

"What happened to headmaster," he shouted, "who is behind this?

_Damn you Cid_, Quistis thought angrily. _You always have an answer for everything. So why not for this? _

"We don't have conclusive evidence to support this, but we have some reason to assume Galbadian involvement in this matter," Quistis said. "For the time being, head of Combat Strategies, Zander Marks is appointed as acting Headmaster.

"This incident will change nothing in our day-to-day operations." she continued, "You are to resume your normal activities as usual, until further notice. As your former instructor, I expect you to weather this as you have weathered everything else before, and continue to do your utmost to uphold what we so long have strived to establish. I hope you won't prove my faith in you to be baseless."

She paused for a moment, to let her words sink in, before she continued. "I give you the acting Headmaster of Balamb Garden, Zander Marks."

"Good luck Quistis," Zander whispered to he stepped past her. "Nothing's set in stone you know." He gave her one last encouraging wink as he began his address.

"Good morning garden, as your Acting Headmaster, I want to . . . ."

Quisits heard no more. She had left the quad to do something unprecedented in the history of Garden. She was to initiate a war, one that would continue for the generations to come and she was to do that with only three others.

Yesterday when she had arrived at her room, after her aimless wanderings through the cemetery to avoid the party, she had found Cid sitting at her desk, looking perturbed about something as he peered over a few files.

"Headmaster?" she had asked in surprise. "Aren't you supposed to be in the graduation ball."

"There's a change of mission objective, sit down," he said bluntly. When she did as ordered, he gave her the files. "You are to execute President Vinzer Deling, details are in these files.

Quistis fell silent. She didn't need to ask why. President Deling's puppet government is what enabled the rise of the Sorceress. It was his mandate she ruled under and it was well known that the Sorceress herself was deeply unpopular with many of the senior Galbadian officials. If he fell, so would she.

It was a singularly risky endeavor. President Deling was the most well-guarded man in the world and this assassination would be the first in Balamb Garden's history.

_And why now?_

Ignoring her confounded look, he continued: "You will receive assistance from a contact organization in Timber. They call themselves the Forest Owls. We have come to an agreement as this mission is beneficial for both parties. Remember, this is _not _a contracted mission, so you are under no obligation to assist them after the assassination of the President. You remember what happened the last time we co-operated with a Timber resistance factor?"

Immediately two words roared up in her mind, the last ugly words of that fateful day. _Goodbye Quistis_

She shuddered imperceptivity, shaking the memory before it had the chance to take shape.

"Are we allowed to do that?" Quisits asked without taking her eyes off the files. "Isn't Garden supposed to remain neutral in matters of politics and restrict themselves only to contracted assistance?"

Cid sighed. "Quistis, do you know why Garden was established?"

She shook her head absently as she continued to read the instructions.

"Garden was meant to be a weapon."

Her head finally jerked up. "A weapon?"

"A weapon against the Sorceress and her minions. Another Sorceress's war is stirring Quistis, her wrath is rising to the surface and this is time the result will have to be absolute. Absolute defeat or absolute victory. The outcome depends on our actions.

"Garden's true mission is about to start Quistis. No matter what happens tonight Quistis, for you this mission is your highest priority. It will be dangerous, but I want you to know that whatever you accomplish will be for the good of others. Everyone in Garden has to sacrifice something for what we believe in, it's what makes us work."

She understood the implications. They wouldn't return from this mission.

"But why me Cid?" Quistis asked, dreading the answer. "I haven't done a mission in over a year, why not order a better SeeD with more ready field experience?"

Cid looked intently at her. "Quistis, I just told you that Garden's true mission is about to start, the time has come to justify its very existence. This mission is significant, don't get me wrong, but it's not as important as other challenges that Garden must face. You are to pave the way for those who are essential for Garden's survival, they have already received their instructions to protect Garden."

"Others?"

He cleared his throat. "Surely you understand that I can't afford to send my best assets and leave lesser SeeDs to defend our base? On a mission like this with uncertain chances, I fear that I'm forced to send those who are expendable to Garden's goal. Cruel times force me to cruel decisions."

"Cruel times," she muttered.

"I'm sorry Quistis," he said, "I'm sure you tried your best over the years, but I can't gamble our victory on your abilities. Sure you've got amazing technical skills for intelligence work, but you remember what happened during your SeeD exam and the mistakes _you've_ made. So please don't be too troubled by this Quistis, I'm merely doing what's right for Garden's survival, surely you understand that?"

Hyne, she hated him so much. She hated his hollow sugarcoated apologies, his expression of counterfeit sympathy. Despite all that had happened during _that_ meeting, she still could have handled the blow. She could have easily survived his words and retained some dignity in the face of rejection.

If only he had not apologized.

With his well-rehearsed expression of pity, he took something from her, something precious and well-earned, without which she felt barren. It reminded her that as always she was unneeded.

_Unwanted._

"I understand Sir," she said, and somehow her voice remained a gorgeous prideful calm. "I will do my part and anything else that Garden asks of me. I too hold Garden's survival dearly."

Cid nodded, smiling sympathetically and stood up. "Very well, you need your rest for tomorrow's mission. I hope you will be ready for this Quistis."

"Trust that I will Headmaster," Quistis said dutifully. "I will lead this mission to the best of my capabilities."

Cid paused for a moment, adjusting his bowtie uncomfortably.

"Well Quistis," he began, "Haven't you read the mission statement?"

"I glanced over it; I intended to read it thoroughly tonight. Why?"

"Ah yes well, you are not to _lead_ this mission Quistis."

"I'm not?" she asked.

"No, Rinoa Heartilly is the squad leader."

Breathe, she thought. _Just breathe_.

"Quistis, because you are slightly more advanced in your abilities, you were sent to assist in times of need as Xu suggested. You are to obey Rinoa's orders under all circumstances and act on her judgment."

_Slightly_ more advanced?

"I understand Headmaster," she said, "thanks for bringing this to my attention, I will begin to read the statement. Goodnight."

Cid nodded and left her room.

_I understand perfectly_

* * *

~ _**Goodbye****Quistis ~**_

So here she was. All packed and stocked up. Her whip was cleaned and oiled, she had done her stretches and replaced her teacher's glasses with battle-friendly contacts. She was ready to join this mission. The last one of her life. Quistis walked out of Balamb Garden, glad for the meeting in Quad that left these corridors deserted.

"QUISTIS," someone called.

Quistis recognised that even, awkward tone before she even saw her.

"Yes, Fujin?"

A young, severe looking woman walked up to her. It was one of Garden admin assistants. Quistis wasn't overly fond of her. She had that odd way of sidling right into your personal space that she found annoying. But Fujin had never been one for manners. Everything about her screamed aggression, her face was a restless inquisition and she had a way of asking people brutal questions, her rudeness expecting an outrageous level of honesty in return; which she usually got.

"You are going to Timber?"

"Hmm."

"What are you doing?"

"It's none of your business Fujin," Quistis said and continued her walk.

"None of _my_ business?"

She swallowed, stopping this time. _Of course._ She looked at the girl, at her one good eye and saw the questions in it.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I have the right," Fujin said. "Right to know."

She looked at the eye patch, knowing exactly what it hid underneath. Quistis sighed. It was a classified mission, best thing to do was to tell her it had nothing to do with that day, but that would be a lie. If it involved Galbadians, Timber and President Deling, it had everything to do with _that_ day.

The day Seifer stabbed out her eye.

"We are going to kill President Deling during a train trip," Quistis told the girl.

"Why?"

"It has something to do with Cid."

The girl looked down at this news. Quistis knew the reason too, understood that conflicting emotion that veered from hatred to concern, back and forth into a dizzying indecisive seesaw. The girl cared about the Headmaster, but she had just as much reason to hate him as Quistis did. They had both been abandoned, shunned even after their SeeD exam. Quistis was a low-level SeeD and Fujin barely even a secretary. Both demoted and ruined, because of what Seifer had cost them.

But Quistis was lucky, her price hadn't been as high as Fujin's.

Or Rajin's.

"I'm going now," said Quistis and walked away. "Goodbye Fujin, take care of yourself."

"You're not coming back?"

Quistis sighed. A million things shot through her mind and the past day came back to her in an accumulation of guilt and resentment. With anger winning the better territory in her mind this time, she rounded back on Fujin. Suddenly feeling roused.

"I don't know," she whispered, her voice hot with honest angry promise, "but whatever happens, before I leave Timber dead or alive, we will get Deling back for what they did to you. To you _both_."

Fujin simply nodded at this and turned to head back to her admin office.

"Goodbye Quistis. Take care."

* * *

_**~ Time to go ~**_

Rinoa turned her head to prevent Selphie from seeing her blush.

"Well tell me," Selphie insisted, "after you walked up to him, you guys suddenly swept off and I couldn't see where you went. What happened?"

"We just danced," she said, "when the dance was over, he left. There's nothing more to it."

Zell scratched his head. "Sounds like a prick if you ask me, walking off like that."

"Oh hush you," Selphie said impatiently, "what was his name?"

Rinoa paused, realizing for the first time that she didn't know. She had been so taken in by his reluctance and his sweet cautious curiosity, that she never wondered what his name was or where he came from. In a way, the mystery of it all fitted into the prodigious design of the night. On nights like that, strangers don't exchange names and cell phone digits. On nights like that, words were superfluous, an unnecessary surrogate for the dialogue of dance. She didn't want to know the sordid story behind every pretty stranger.

"I don't know," she replied, "he never told me."

Selphie grinned. "Who would have thought that forcing you to ask him for a dance would cause that dreamy look in your eyes?"

_Dreamy?_ No not dreamy. It was just easier that way. Maybe it was okay to take the memory for what it was, enjoy it, consume it until it fell apart against the passage of time. She could dance under a sky full of stars for every night of her life, as long as she woke up at dawn. As Seifer had taught her, she was too old for daydreams.

Zell got up from his place on the grass and peered at Rinoa's face. "Hmm she's just a bit sleepy, that's all."

Rinoa smiled. "Exactly Zell, you're abso- . . . ." Her words died out as she noticed her instructor approach them.

They quickly sprang into position and saluted her.

Quistis dismissed their salute. "Don't do that anymore, I'm no longer an Instructor."

Zell frowned. "What do you mean Instructor?"

Quistis rolled her eyes. "From now on I'm a level 15 SeeD, you don't address me as Instructor. Here are your updated briefings."

They all nodded.

Quistis stiffened unconsciously as she quickly glanced at Rinoa Heartilly. Had Cid stood beside her, she would see him open up, like a father joining to company of a favorite daughter. The wrinkles by his eyes would have been less deep, maybe the ends of his lips would curl up in a smile that was only reserved for his precious one, his champion.

And like she did so many times, Quistis wondered what it was that made Rinoa so prized in the eyes of Cid. She knew that the Garden Board shared her suspicions whenever Cid took it up as his personal task to monitor Miss Heartilly's progression. She had only been here, what, a year? And already Garden evolved around what Rinoa Heartilly had for lunch and how it affected her scores.

Quistis had never been one to submit to that base emotion called jealousy. Cid had his reasons. What did she care that Rinoa effortlessly attained all the recognition Quistis herself had fought viciously to win all these years.

_Big deal_

"So there's a slight change in our mission aims," Quistis said, "we are to assassinate President Vinzer Deling."

She ignored their surprise. " We will receive further instructions when we reach Timber."

Rinoa's eyes flicked up at the mention of her old hometown. Anxiety had filled her when she found out that Timber was to be their destination that morning. Rinoa wasn't sure if she was up to a trip down that derelict grey path in the deepest recesses of her consciousness called memory lane. It was the place she left her daydreams behind, the place that made her grow up. She was old enough to go back now and feel nothing.

Quistis turned to walk towards the parking lot, where their transportation to Balamb awaited them. _Time to go._

"Oh by the way Rinoa," Quistis added casually, as an after-thought, "you're the mission leader."

* * *

_**~ What happened last night? ~**_

The majestic Centra-made door crashed open with bang as a young man swept past in fury. The presidential lounge was empty save for a woman in a black solemn dress and a nervous man in a suit, sitting opposite each other on lush leather sofas. Only the man looked up when Squall entered the room.

His name was President Vinzer Deling, a self-important pompous fool who vainly accepted Ultimecia's offer of service. Believing that he could manipulate the sorceress and her apprentice into doing his bidding, he assigned her as his advisor and now his ambassador. He wanted to make the sorceress dance to his tune, she was to be the puppet that complemented his one-man act. Yet it didn't take long for him to realize that he had traded away his own career and Galbadia's future, to find himself unable to shed the strings she led _him _by.

"The train will be attacked?" Deling repeated in disbelief. "They know of our arrival then? B-but how? What are we going to do, we have to reschedule our broadcast and … -."

The sorcerer Leonheart leaned against the desk behind the president and his scrutinizing gaze settled on Ultimecia. Folding his arms over his black silk-clad chest, he decided to remain silent for the moment.

"No," Ultimecia interrupted him, ignoring the sudden visitor. "The broadcast will continue as planned. It has to happen _now_, well before the parade and my official public initiation."

President Deling wrung his tie nervously with his shaking hands. "B-but, that would place me in certain danger Sorceress Edea. If I die, the country will be without a sovereign, imagine that!"

"Imagine _that_," Ultimecia said sweetly.

His eyes widened. "Lady Sorceress please," he pleaded, beads of sweat trickled down the wrinkles of his face. "Can't we stop them? If I board that train, they'll have me for sure."

"You won't be boarding that train Deling," Squall said impatiently. "You will arrive by helicopter, we just need those SeeDs to think you are on that train."

Relief washed over his wrinkled face. "Oh yes, of course. How foolish of me to t-think t-that, I mean, surely you had . . ."

"Deling, leave us alone," Squall commanded.

Deling shot to his feet in a heartbeat.

"Of course L-l-lord Sorcerer," he stammered as he scurried away.

But just before he disappeared, Deling turned and faced the Sorceress.

"Sorceress, if you don't mind me asking," he said, "what are you going to do with the SeeDs?"

"You dare to question me Deling?" Ultimecia asked icily.

President Deling swallowed hard. "No, surely not Sorceress Edea. You have my c-confidence in this. Goodbye, see you in Timber."

"Sometimes I think you are right Squall," she said when he disappeared, "Maybe we should have killed him when we took over. Unfortunately the fool has a city named after him."

"You have avoided me all last night," he said. "We will talk this time."

Her yellow eyes watched him intently from underneath her long dark lashes, but she didn't respond. Squall stared back, his unfaltering deadly eyes fixed on the sorceress he trusted less with every passing minute.

"Cid told me you knew Edea," he said, "before you claimed her body, you knew her. What does he know that I don't?"

She hesitated before she answered. "He knows no more than you do."

But for Squall her hesitation said it all.

The boy was angry. The gold in his eyes revealed his base emotions. Ultimecia had always loved his eyes when he touched the core of his power during moments of rare passion. Unlike her, whose eyes were always yellow as long as she inhabited this body, it was obvious when his power was rising to the surface. When using his magic in battle or when he became emotionally charged like he was now, his midnight blue eyes would slowly glaze over with a brilliant gold varnish. It was like watching a breathtaking sunrise.

Ultimecia wondered what happened the night before. What triggered this barrage of questions; questions she had hoped had died with the past?

She rose from the sofa so lightly and elegantly that it fooled the eye in believing her to float. The beads of her headpiece clicked together gently to accentuate her motions. She slowly walked closer to Squall who was still leaning against the desk, her questioning eyes now merely inches away from his.

"Why didn't you do your job?" she asked him, had her voice been able to mimic her emotions, it would have been raised in anger, "why did you bring the headmaster here?"

Squall calmly withstood her questioning eyes. "He was playing at something. It's better this way, the confusion that is bound to rage now the Headmaster has disappeared, will throw Garden in a state of chaos. This would leave them more vulnerable, now they're forced to concentrate their efforts on investigating his disappearance. Their spies in Galbadia will emerge from the woodwork and some will reveal themselves through hasty unplanned action. So I've sent him to Desert Prison for questioning for the moment."

"Hmm, indeed," Ultimecia said, "If that _really _is the case, then I must commend you my Knight, for your presence of mind to use the headmaster in a way that will benefit our work the most. After all, that is the most important thing in our lives, _isn't it_?"

She raised a finger to his cheek, her black nail scraping lovingly across his skin. Her gentle stroke left him indifferent, if not a bit irritated.

"Isn't it?" she asked again.

"Yeah sure Ultimecia," he replied stiffly.

"Squall, what happened last night?" she asked quietly. _What did you find in Garden?_

His cold gaze swept over her like acid rain.

"I know no more than you do," he replied after her fashion and moved towards the door.

Ultimecia called him back. "Aren't you staying for breakfast?"

"I have things to do," he answered tersely. "I've arranged a car for you outside, it's ready whenever you are. See you in Timber."

Ultimecia nodded. "Very well. Keep me posted on the situation and make sure Deling doesn't meet anybody but our people before his arrival at the TV station. He has a foul habit of talking needlessly when under pressure."

"Yes Lady Sorceress," he said formally and marched out of the room.

That proud title brought her pleasure usually, but out of his mouth even the lofty things of the world were made mean and frivolous. Then there were those rare moments, in private company, when he called her Ultimecia. Something happened in his voice when he said her name. It was like he was drawing her back in again.

It was only then that he felt like hers again.

But he rarely said her name anymore, even in anger.

Then suddenly, an irrational suspicion jumped to the surface of her mind, like a sneeze caught in her throat, fading as fast as it had come. An image flared bright in her mind. For a moment she saw a scene being played on the stage of someone else's memory. It was the woman trapped within the body she wore – Edea. In her thoughts Ultimecia could see herself dying on the steps of a derelict building. She could hear herself uttering words of the future:

_And you will see that your destiny lies not with that sorceress Heartilly or with Garden, but that your destiny lies with yourself._

Well Heartilly had died as a child, Ultimecia had made sure of that. So only garden was left to lure him into whatever destiny had set for him. But she had made sure that Squall detested Garden, more than he detested her. She had laid bare all their crimes, future and past. If there was a chance of destroying Garden, Squall would leap to it before anyone else. And when moved, there was no greater, more terrible power than the Lord Sorcerer.

Still, despite their shared conviction, Ultimecia couldn't abandon this arresting fear that she was about to lose him to something.

Something greater than herself.


End file.
